Little White Misunderstandings
by The Lawrence Tree
Summary: Yamato realizes that he's been keeping Taichi and Sora apart and runs away to rural Japan. His timing couldn't possibly be worse. TaitoYamachi.
1. Pale White Butterfly

Summary: Yamato realizes that he's been keeping Taichi and Sora apart and runs away to rural Japan. His timing couldn't possibly be worse. Taito/Yamachi.

Rating: R, for language and slash.

Pairings: Taito, past Sorato, slight one-sided Taiora, Takari, Kenyako, Jyoumi, Gabumon x Piyomon hints, and maybe a touch of Mimi x Michael, if you really squint. I do apologize for the Kenyako, I like it about as much as the next person (cough cough not at all) but I didn't feel like writing a romantic utopia fic where every character ends up with their soulmate, so I stuck with canon, for them at least. I'm also sorry about the Gabumon x Piyomon. I don't know where in the world that came from. I guess I felt like something should have come out of Sora and Yamato's relationship.

As for everyone's ages, Taichi, Yamato and Sora are all twenty-two in this. You can figure the rest out.

This fic will be uploaded a chapter a day. I figure it'll be about twelve or thirteen chapters, but it seems to just keep getting longer.

And off we go!_  
_

* * *

There's something different about the atmosphere today.

Yamato is focused on the world outside his window with the kind of glazed-over intensity usually reserved for video games.

The clouds aren't usually low, nor particularly high, he reflects. They're just . . . deeper. Thicker, maybe, and more textured than he's to seeing in Odaiba.

Or New York or London, for that matter.

What he doesn't know is that clouds in higher altitude areas tend to form closer to the ground, unsurprising considering the increased proximity between the ground and sky at these heights. As a result the clouds are far denser; when close to the sky, water vapor doesn't have as far to rise and spread out into the smaller, sparser clouds that are characteristic of lower altitude areas, such as most cities, which tend to cluster around bodies of water and are as such naturally located in lower areas.

To be honest, Yamato himself doesn't give a damn about all this, he's no meteorologist after all, but it lends us a clue. A clue as to exactly where Yamato's train is headed, even if it gives us no insights as to why he's on it in the first place.

Still mesmerized by the clouds, slowly seeping pink and orange at the bottom edge where the sun has begun to set, reflecting yellow light on the tips of the mountains, he almost doesn't hear the next announcement.

"End of the line, folks." The voice cuts across his distraction slowly, and Yamato blinks. He feels like he's coming out of a long nap, like he's not quite real yet, and he pulls his suitcase and his guitar off the rack with enormous lethargy.

The train is nearly empty, only one other passenger in his entire car, and the two step onto the platform in eerie unison. The station is just as empty. There's a newspaper pinned under the nearest bench, the wind flapping it against the pavement. The only other people in sight are the conductor, smiling and waving from the last car, and an old man fast asleep on a bench next to his wife.

The other passenger nods at Yamato shortly and strides off, businesslike. Yamato starts to run a hand through his hair, but stops because it's matted and tangled from being pressed against the train window so long.

He sighs. From here it's an hour drive to the house, and he hasn't rented a car yet.

When his grandmother had passed away, leaving her tiny rural home to Yamato and Takeru, much to the surprise of their parents, neither boy had been willing to go see the place, much less put it to use, for fear that it would remind them too much of her, and of their slowly dying childhoods.

But now . . . now Yamato doesn't know what else to do.

Predictably, the car rental place closes at five. So he rents a cheap hotel room on the far side of the town and collapses on his tiny bed, hoping that sleep will come easily.

It doesn't. His mind can't help but replay everything in that annoyingly repetitive and circular way.

* * *

It's spring, and the bright yellow of the afternoon sunlight hits the swirls of gently cascading cherry blossoms so that they cast tiny dancing shadows on the cement path of the park. The space between Sora and Yamato as they walk is a deep trench hundreds of miles long.

It's a long time before Yamato gathers the will to speak.

"Sora, this can't go on."

A flash of auburn in the corner of his eye as she turns her head to look at him properly for the first time that day.

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

A pause. Their feet slap the pavement together, keeping perfect time in a strangely sombre march.

"I waited up for you," he says finally.

She stops walking altogether.

"What?" she says, her eyes frantically studying his face. "What - no, it was never anything like that - I had to study, Yamato -"

"It doesn't matter," he says, his voice harshly cruel.

But he pauses after he's said it and lets out a sigh. "I mean," he says. "I mean, when was the last time we did anything together?"

Sora is silent, conceding the point, urging him to continue.

"We haven't seen each other for two weeks," he reminds her gently. "What kind of relationship is that?"

"A low-maintenance one?" Sora offers, but she doesn't look hopeful.

"It's not a relationship at all." He sighs again, a whoosh like the air being let out of a balloon. "Come on, you have to see that neither of us want this anymore. We haven't tried for the past year, for God's sake."

"I want it," Sora says quietly, looking almost hurt, and Yamato is surprised at the answer.

"You want -" he says. "You really want to continue this charade?"

She shakes her head. "No," she says. "I want _us _back."

Yamato looks at her and thinks of days long past, of boxes of Christmas cookies and gentle backstage kisses. A painful knot of feeling rises in his chest.

She is silent again, her plain eyes boring into his own. Then, "I loved you."

_Loved_, he thinks, and then he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's over. He reaches out and caresses her small face anyway.

"I loved you too," he says softly. "But it was a long time ago, and we were just kids."

"Not that long ago," she contradicts, but she's smiling a sad smile of agreement. "Maybe we were too young to really know."

"Know what?"

"What love is."

Yamato stares at her, but she's no longer looking at him. Instead her eyes are unfocused, her face turned away from his. She's beautiful, caught in this moment of pain.

"Do you love _him_?"

He doesn't quite register the question until it's already made its way out of his mouth. The bitterness in his voice surprises him.

"Hmm?" says Sora. She doesn't turn her head.

"Taichi. Do you love him?"

She still won't look at him.

"He loves you, Sora. Can't you see that?"

"Yamato - "

A strangled sob escapes his throat to hover in the pale June air like some still, sad butterfly.

"And you love him."

Silence speaks volumes, Yamato knows, and Sora's is no different.

"I don't know, Yamato, I . . . just don't know anything anymore. I'm confused, and . . . ." She trails away into nothingness, biting her bottom lip.

Yamato blinks in the silence, the fall of his heavy eyelids conveying surrender more effectively than any words ever have. Standing in the park on a summer day, all he feels is his own sorrow.

"I should have seen it," he mutters. "I should have - how could I - I hurt my two best friends . . . I'm such a jerk, I'm such a selfish, stupid, emotionally stunted_ moron_, he's loved you all this time, and I never - I never . . . ."

"Yamato?" Sora's voice is quiet and hesitant. Her face turns up to his, her sadness written on her brow. "You never what?"

"I never even let you in," he whispers. "I never once let down my walls for you, Sora, I'm so sorry. You deserve better."

His voice suddenly stronger, "You deserve Taichi."

* * *

Now Yamato's throat is threatening to release that same sad white butterfly of a sob. He chokes it back angrily, taut in his stiffly laundered bed, tears blurring his view of the bumpy pop-corned ceiling.

Other memories run through his mind, too, an incessant torrent of regret and sadness; Sora clinging to Taichi and not him as Diaboromon moves toward them, giant grins across both their faces in a backyard soccer game, the casual exchange of familiar glances, knocked shoulders and brushed hands.

He should have broken up with Sora a long time ago.

It seems so obvious, now that he knows. And it's true, everything is clearer in retrospect. No wonder Taichi hasn't called him in months.

He's done the right thing, he knows, coming here. He is unwanted, he is unnecessary, and he is in the way. Taichi and Sora are his best friends, and he wants nothing but their happiness. So he gets himself out of their way, because he doesn't want to distract them with his own unhappiness, and he knows that he can't watch them together, not without crying or locking himself up or screaming or something. He has no clue how Taichi did it for so long.

So he's run away. He's a coward and there are some things he will never be able to confront. Being alone in the face of their happiness is number one on that list.

He's never going to get to sleep at this rate, he realizes, flipping over onto his side again. He has to stop this obsessing. So what to think about?

If he were anywhere else, he'd get out his guitar or his harmonica and start messing around, but he's in a hotel room and he has a feeling that the other patrons wouldn't appreciate that kind of thing. He's not really in the mood to get kicked out. Though it would be fitting, for an unloved loser like him.

No. He's here to get away. He will not think about this anymore. Tomorrow - tomorrow a new life starts.

He buries himself further in the sheets and begins to sing one of his songs in his head, carefully thinking through the chord progressions as he goes. It's reassuring, and soon enough he is asleep.

He has tiny fleeting dreams of other people's faces.


	2. Same Old Taichi?

Author's note: It is_ so_ hard to write from Sora's point of view, but I seem to do it all the time in this fic. Oh well.

Summary: Yamato realizes that he's been keeping Taichi and Sora apart and runs away to rural Japan. His timing couldn't possibly be worse. Taito/Yamachi.

Rating: R, for language and slash.

* * *

Sora is standing outside Taichi's new apartment on the south side of Odaiba and all she can think about is how familiar this scene is to her. How many times has she stood on his terrace, on the verge of knocking? She doesn't know, but it's been quite a few. She has known him since they were tiny children, playing soccer in the park with a ball that must have been twice as big as their heads.

She smiles as she notices the door mat she's standing on has its corners flipped up and the plant next to the door is slumped over, limpid and neglected. There's no name tag next to the door.

"Same old Taichi," she breathes fondly.

As much as things have changed, they have stayed the same. Even though this is a new apartment, it doesn't look much different from the old Yagami place.

She doesn't know what she's going to say to this boy she's basically loved since birth, but she's got to say something. The two-year silence between them is unnatural, unheard of, and it has to be worked out.

And maybe it really is Taichi she's meant for.

So she gathers up what little courage she has and knocks twice on the door.

Her stomach is twisting nervously. She doesn't know what to expect. Maybe he won't be there. More likely he'll slam the door in her face.

What she's really not expecting is a yawning, confused-looking Taichi in boxers and an oversized t-shirt.

"For God's sake, Taichi, it's two in the afternoon," she says before she can stop herself, caught somewhere between irritation and amusement.

Taichi blinks comically. "Sora?" He blinks again. "What are you doing here?"

Sora's mind tries frantically to sort out an answer to that question, but she's panicking a little, and nothing really comes to mind.

"Yamato and I broke up," she eventually says in her softest voice, focusing on a point somewhere behind Taichi's ear.

Taichi blinks a couple more times. Sora wonders if he's capable of any other reaction. "Oh shit," he says. "Come in."

Sora steps into the mess that is Taichi's universe and scrunches up her nose. There's dirty laundry and empty take-out boxes scattered across the floor, giant crumbs and misshapen piles of paper on the table, several pizza boxes balanced precariously on top of the TV.

"Couldn't keep the place even a little bit respectable, could you," she mutters.

Taichi grins, closing the door behind her. "I hope you're not hungry or anything, 'cause I haven't got any food."

"Typical bachelor," Sora says, smiling back tentatively. She's glad to see they've managed to retain some degree of normalcy.

Taichi flops onto the couch with his particular brand of carelessness and waves her over, indicating the space next to him. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sora sits down delicately, still unsure of herself. "No, not really."

"Yes, you do," says Taichi with confidence. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you?"

He grins smugly, proud of his logic, and Sora can't help but laugh. In fact, she can't stop laughing, even though there's nothing terribly funny at all about what Taichi's just said, and soon she is leaning back comfortably, hysterical laughter bubbling up in little bursts.

"What?" says Taichi, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

And suddenly she's got her arms around him and she can feel the beginnings of tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, Taichi, I missed you so much!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Taichi exclaims, backing up on the sofa rapidly. "Geez, slow down, Sora!"

Sora pulls back and wipes her face on her sleeve. God, she's a mess. Her emotions are just jumping all over the place.

"Sorry," she says. "It's just - you're one of my best friends. I really missed you." Her voice gets quiet and serious. "I don't think I could live without you, Taichi."

"Sora?" he says quietly, a strange expression on his face.

Looking at him, at his ridiculous mop of hair and his messy t-shirt and his worried expression, Sora is struck by something. It's not love, whatever they have, not like that at least. It's just . . . Sora and Taichi. They've got this bond between them, but it's not more than that. It's just an unusually close bond between longtime friends, and it seems that's something that's far too easy to mistake as something more.

She chuckles to herself. Holder of the crest of love,_ right_. Too bad she's absolute shit in that department. Can't even keep her own emotions straight. Oh, ew, imagine kissing _Taichi_. It would be like kissing Takeru, who's basically her little brother after so long with Yamato, or maybe kissing Piyomon, or something.

"Sora?" says Taichi again. "You're not . . . hitting on me, are you?"

Sora laughs at the look of horror on his face.

"Oh, Taichi," she says in her most sultry voice, "take me right now."

Taichi's expression now is one of complete and utter terror, and then it relaxes into relief as Sora begins giggling.

"Christ, you scared me, Sora."

Sora turns serious again. "I thought I did." she says.

"You did what?" says Taichi, again confused.

"I thought I loved you," she replies.

"Yeah, me too," Taichi says casually, not looking surprised, "back when you first started dating Yamato. I felt like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life, letting you go."

His expression clouds. "It was someone else I liked, though."

There is a moment's silence between them. Sora's about to break it and ask exactly who Taichi is talking about, but he gets to it first.

"How about you?" he says.

Sora stares at him, unsure of his meaning.

"When did you think you loved me?" he explains.

"Oh." Sora smiles, embarrassed. "A couple minutes ago."

"_What_?"

Sora laughs. "Well, Yamato thought that's why you stopped talking to us, so - "

"_What?!_"

"Taichi, stop interrupting me."

"Sorry," he says, having the good sense to look abashed. Sora sniffs contemptuously, then continues.

"Basically, he told me that he'd never loved me."

"Oh, ouch," says Taichi sympathetically. Even after being reproached, he continues interrupting her, Sora notices with a smile.

"Yeah, I don't know," Sora says. "It makes sense, when you think about it. We were never that close, really - "

"But you've been dating for five years! You live together!"

"Yeah, we went on dates, but there was always this distance between us," Sora sighs. "You know how Yamato's got that wall around him?"

"More like a _maze_ of walls," Taichi replies.

Sora laughs. "That's exactly it. After the Digiworld, he let down most of those walls for us, but there were a few left. Yamato and I were close - we were even in love, once upon a time - but he always had at least one of those damn walls up when I was around."

She sighs, smiling the small, sad smile of regret. "Even after all these years, he never fully relaxed around me. He knows it too. That's what he said the night he left - _I never let you in_. I guess he was too scared. He never learned to trust me, really."

"Then why'd you keep dating for so long? Why'd you move in together?"

"Oh, Taichi, we're both just so stubborn," Sora laughs. "I guess I couldn't admit to myself that I couldn't get through to him, and Yamato - "

"Was too stubborn to admit anything was wrong in the first place?" Taichi finishes for her, matching her sad smile with a small one of his own.

"Exactly."

They stare at each other for a minute. When they speak again, it's at the same time.

"I'm glad it's over, to be honest," says Sora.

"So how'd you figure it out?" Taichi asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

There's a slight pause as they decipher each other's comments.

"That I'm not in love with you?" Sora says finally, sad smile still in place.

Taichi nods.

"No clue, really," says Sora, "I just figured it out. I looked at you, and imagined kissing you and - "

"Eugh," they say simultaneously.

"Well, _I'm _glad _that's_ over with," says Taichi.

They lapse into comfortable silence, Taichi shifting so that his giant feet are resting on top of Sora's legs. The more things change, the more they stay the same, Sora thinks warmly, and then, _wait a minute_ . . . .

"All right, Yagami," says Sora, reaching over and poking him in the chest indignantly. "Feet off. And I still have one question for you."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Taichi moves his legs under him, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as if he has an idea of what's coming.

"If you weren't in love with me, why in the world did you ignore me and Yamato for so long?"

His eyes widen comically, but no answer is immediately forthcoming. Instead a tense silence falls. Then . . . .

"Eh he he he," says Taichi nervously. "That."

"Well?" says Sora, crossing her arms. "It'd better be good."

"Oh no, I sense scary angry girl-mode coming on."

"Stop avoiding the subject, Taichi."

"Fine," he says sulkily.

He sits there for another minute, looking as nervous as she's ever seen him, and then it all comes out in one very fast breath, "I'minlovewithYamato."

Now Sora is the one blinking. "Oh my god."

Taichi looks even more nervous, if that's possible.

"Oh no, I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that, can we please forget about this conversation? Please? I didn't mean it, I . . . . "

Sora lets Taichi's denials wash over her, a thoughtful expression on her face. She quickly becomes absorbed in her thoughts, not noticing when Taichi begins pulling desperately at her arm.

"Sora? Sora? You're not going to tell him, are you? Sora?"

Slowly, a smile spreads across her face.

"This is _great._" she says happily.

"What?" says Taichi dumbly, his hand halting its yanking.

Sora turns her gaze to him, her face lit up. "Do you know what it's like to be the only girl in a love triangle?"

"Umm, no," says Taichi flatly. "Obviously not."

"Where both boys are your _best friends_?" she continues. "It's horrible."

Taichi looks at her in surprise. "It's horrible to be universally adored?" he says dryly.

"It's _horrible!_" she repeats. "I'm not kidding. You have to make this terrible, impossible choice, and either way you lose one of them and then they stop talking to each other and you end up without best friends at all!"

She smiles and stands up, stretching. "And now you tell me it was never like that at all. What a relief!"

"What? No!" says Taichi, looking frustrated. "Sora, sit down!"

He grabs her wrist and pulls her forcefully back down onto the couch. Sora's eyes widen at the gesture.

"Sorry," Taichi says gruffly, noticing her shock. "It's just -- what about me?"

"What about you?"

Taichi runs his hand through his hair worriedly. "I don't know what to do, Sora," he says. "I . . . can't live like this. I miss Yamato."

"Well, start talking to him again!" Sora says irritably. She feels immediately guilty, though, when Taichi's face crumples. He looks on the verge of tears. It's kind of a strange look on him, but it fits in with his whole overgrown kid look.

"I can't!"

"Oh, Taichi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about," she says in her most reassuring voice, gently placing a hand on his knee.

"I don't have anything to worry about?" Taichi mutters. He snorts. "I don't have anything to _worry_ about? What about the fact that I've lost my best friend forever just because I had to go and_ fall in love with him?_"

Sora frowns. She's never seen him like this before. "Well, okay, maybe it is a bit of a sticky situation . . . ."

"A bit?!"

"Taichi, it's not like you're going to lose him!"

Taichi looks at her reproachfully, effectively saying_ I have, remember?_ Okay, maybe that was a little tactless.

"What I mean is, Yamato's still your friend. He's not going to stop being your friend just because of this. He cares a lot about you, you know?"

"Does not," Taichi says in a sullen, childlike voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sora says authoritatively. "He left me because he wanted us both to be happy."

She reaches out and tilts Taichi's fallen face up towards hers. "He wanted _you _to be happy, Taichi."

Encouraged by the very slight lift at the corners of Taichi's mouth, Sora pushes on. "He was so worried that he had hurt you."

Taichi looks Sora in the eyes for another minute, as if searching for the truth of her statement. "He was?"

"Yes," she says firmly, careful not to look away in case it discourages her friend.

"D'you think . . . . " Taichi says, a bit breathlessly.

"I don't know, Taichi, I told you we were never that close," Sora says, impatient suddenly. "But don't get your hopes up."

She smiles at him sadly. "I don't want to see you get hurt either. Just . . . promise me you'll be friends again."

Taichi nods. "I'll try."

Then, softly, "I hope he's okay."

Silence descends again. For a few minutes, nothing but the hum of the radiator and the distant rumble of passing airplanes can be heard.

"I'm hungry," says a familiar voice from another room. Sora jumps.

"Sorry, buddy, we ate everything yesterday," Taichi calls over his shoulder. Agumon wanders into the room, a giant yawn revealing a large pink tongue and row upon row of tiny, sharp teeth.

"But I'm hungry," he repeats. "Oh, hi Sora. Nice to see you around here again."

"Hi, Agumon," says Sora fondly. "You boys want to go out to a late lunch? My treat."

"Okay, I changed my mind," says Agumon jokingly, "it's_ really _nice to see you around here again."

"All right," says Sora, "I'll drive. But I want to pick up Piyomon from my apartment first."


	3. Of Cell Phones and Bath Houses

Author's note: Sorry if any of this seems boring or unnecessary. This chapter is a bit heavy on details, I think. There are, however, a couple of sections I am really proud of.

Summary: Yamato realizes that he's been keeping Taichi and Sora apart and runs away to rural Japan. His timing couldn't possibly be worse. Taito/Yamachi.

Rating: R, for language and slash.

* * *

Yamato stares up the steps to his grandmother's house, keys and luggage in hand, a slight grin starting to form on his face.

"God, I love it here," he says to himself, a small bit of contentment nestling itself in his chest.

He glances around again. Trees, check. Dirt road, check. Rotting old house, check. Ancient stone steps with weeds growing out the cracks, check. Ah, home at last.

He makes his halting way up the steps, hindered by the weight of his suitcase and the unwieldy shape of his bass. At the top he dumps his stuff and leans over, breathing heavily. That's going to take a while to get used to, he thinks.

Okay. Now what? The house has been abandoned for years. He doesn't even want to know what he's going to find inside. What if no one ever came to clean the place up? What if the last meal his grandmother ever made is still sitting and molding in the sink? Or even worse, right where it sat on the dining room table the day she passed away?

He shudders.

Houses are complex and sometimes frightening enigmas. They are where we make our home, where we spend the majority of our hours, be it awake or lost in dreams, where we play out the daily struggle of trying to define exactly who it is we are. They are ours to own, ours to conquer and shape, and yet, in some small way, they end up owning us. They characterize us in every detail. Who we are is revealed in every piece of furniture, every unwashed dish, every fingerprint left smudged on a door frame. A house is a record, a living history of everything we are, and so, somewhere between the move-in and the move-out, a house becomes _alive_.

Unfortunately, the house does not die with the departure of the owner. No, it lives on, quietly breathing in the deserted air, everything that was once warm and human within it cooling and rotting until it becomes nothing more than decayed, maggot-ridden flesh, an empty shell of what was but a living shell all the same. Any house that's been abandoned as long as Yamato's is therefore a dark and terrifying thing, a thing of nightmares, of nighttime creaks and whispers, of bleak corners and webs of shadows, even in the bright stillness of day.

But it's nothing a little cleaning won't fix, Yamato resolves firmly, and he turns the key in the lock.

It's not terror that strikes at Yamato's heart when he opens the door, nor is it grief, or any other immediately discernible reaction. It's . . . unease.

There's nothing rotting in the sink, nothing sitting half-eaten on the table, only a fine layer of dust on the floor and the furniture. Pale thin beams of light creep quietly through the windows and cast yellowed stripes on the floor, illuminating millions upon millions of dust specks slowly swirling through the air.

Yes. Definite unease.

Yamato quickly closes the door behind him and sets his stuff on the floor. God, he'd forgotten how big this house is. He's only got one suitcase, and unless he goes on a major shopping trip the house is going to stay as empty as it is right now.

All right. Time to take inventory.

He walks into the kitchen and turns the sink handles experimentally, more than a little surprised when ice cold water starts pouring from them right away. The house might have private water rights, he thinks hopefully. Or maybe even a hot spring.

He flicks at the light switch with one finger. Nothing happens. Not surprising. He had no reason to expect the electric company to keep the juice running without getting a paycheck. He'll have to head into town in a while to turn it back on.

The refrigerator has been emptied, luckily, but there's still a couple of bags of rice in the cupboard.

The gas stove flickers on after a couple of tries. Yamato frowns. It might be a good idea to get it checked out, just in case. He wouldn't want the thing to start leaking or something.

Hmm, what else, what else . . . .

He slides open the door to the downstairs bedroom. It's empty except for a small, low-to-the-ground bed pushed against the wall. Seems all right.

He climbs the ladder to the upstairs easily and pushes himself up into the attic bedrooms. A minimal amount of light seeps through the tiny circular side window, leaving only a round spot on the floor. He looks at the ceiling, trying to see if there are any leaks, but the sun doesn't seem to be able to force its way through anywhere. That's good, at least.

Everything seems in order up here, so Yamato clambers back down the ladder to go have a look at the bath house.

When he slides open the door to the backyard, he grins. There's a clearing with the bath house situated along the back edge, and beyond that is pure forest. The trees are huge and the ground is completely shadowed by the overhead foliage.

There's such a sense of history here, Yamato thinks, closing his eyes and basking in it. It's nice to know that somehow some things remain long after the passing of our tiny mortal lives.

The bath house is just as dusty and abandoned as the rest of the house, but marginally more damp.

Yamato just can't believe his luck. A real bath house. This is the kind of domestic luxury the big city can't afford.

The water runs perfectly, just like in the kitchen. There's plenty of hot water, too. The water heater must be gas-powered, then.

"All right!" says Yamato, unusually enthusiastic, surveying the place with the god-like pride and self-assurance that comes with property ownership.

That's the thing about life . . . no matter how bad it gets, no matter how bad you mess things up, you can always turn around and start again.

Yamato mentally shakes himself as his stomach plummets. No, not thinking about Taichi and Sora. There's no time for that.

Instead he goes back into the house and grabs a mop from the kitchen. Time to do some house-cleaning.

* * *

Takeru makes a face at his phone.

"What?" says Hikari as she turns from the stove momentarily and catches the face.

" 'The Nokia user you are trying to reach is currently out of service,' " Takeru imitates bitterly.

"That's weird," says Hikari. "Doesn't Yamato have that international plan for when he's on tour?"

"Yeah," Takeru replies, "and he's supposed to be in Tokyo right now anyway."

"Did you try his apartment?" Hikari asks.

Takeru nods. "He didn't pick up. Neither did Sora."

"Why don't you call her cell?" Tailmon suggests from her perch on the refrigerator, lifting her head up from her arms momentarily.

"Good idea, Tailmon," Hikari says, turning back to her cooking.

Sora's on speed dial, so Takeru presses nine and waits for the phone to ring.

"Hey, Takeru," Sora's voice answers casually after a couple of rings.

"Hi, Sora," Takeru replies, "Is Yamato around?"

There's an awkward pause.

Takeru frowns, puzzled.

"No, he's not," Sora says eventually. "Sorry, Takeru."

"Do you know how I can get a hold of him? His phone's not working, and his digivice is turned off."

"It is?" Her voice is suddenly filled with quiet concern. None of them ever turn off their digivices. It's what Miyako refers to as 'Digidestined policy.'

Takeru blinks. "Do you know where he is?" he asks again.

A sudden rush of static in his ear. Sora must be sighing.

"No, I don't, Takeru, I'm sorry."

Takeru is momentarily quieted.

"What's up, Sora?"

"I . . . I can't . . . ."

Well, this is going nowhere fast.

"Hold on a minute." Takeru puts his hand over the mouthpiece and turns to Hikari.

"Would you talk to her, Hikari? I can't get anything out of her."

Hikari turns around again, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sure, if you'll watch over the rice for me."

" 'Course," says Takeru, and they trade places. Takeru stirs with a little more agitation than is strictly necessary and listens to Hikari's conversation.

"Hi, Sora, it's Hikari."

There's a pause, presumably because Sora's talking. Hikari glances over at him with a tiny smile.

"He sure is. So what's going on?"

Pause.

"All right, all right. At least tell me_ why_ you can't tell me."

Pause.

"What do you mean, you're not the right person to tell me? You're Yamato's girlfriend. Who could be better?"

Pause.

"First you're not the right person, now it's not the right time. Sora, please just tell me. It can't be that bad."

Pause.

"Is that Taichi in the background?"

Takeru whips his head around. No way. Could Sora be . . . .

Taichi hasn't spoken to Sora or Yamato in years, Takeru knows. It has always really frustrated Yamato, to the extent that Takeru's never successfully gotten him to talk about it.

Sometimes Taichi comes over to their apartment when he's in really bad shape, drunk or depressed or both, and Taichi and Hikari disappear out onto the deck and talk for hours and hours until he finally falls asleep and Takeru and Hikari have to carry him inside to the sofa and drape blankets over him. On the worst of these nights Hikari makes Takeru drive to Taichi's apartment and pick up Agumon so he'll be there for Taichi in the morning. She never tells him what she and Taichi talk about, no matter how much he insists, but he's always suspected it has to do with Sora and Yamato.

Now he knows it does.

"Oh, shit," says Takeru.

"Explain." Hikari's voice has the steely edge it gets sometimes when she's really upset. Takeru knows better to argue with that voice, and apparently so does Sora, because Hikari falls silent, a look of intense concentration on her face.

"And you have no idea where he went?" she says a few minutes later. She frowns at whatever it is Sora says. "That doesn't sound so good. Okay, here's Takeru. Tell him everything you told me."

Hikari hands the phone back. Takeru presses it between his ear and his shoulder, still stirring.

"All right, Sora, what happened?" he says.

"Hi, Takeru," says Taichi's voice.

Takeru groans. "What happened to Sora?"

"She's a wimp." Taichi says. His grin is almost audible. "Okay, here's the short of things. Yamato and Sora broke up yesterday and Yamato left and didn't tell Sora where he was going."

Fuck.

"Did you have anything to do with this break-up, Yagami?" Takeru says suspiciously.

"Actually, no," says Taichi. "Well, not really anyway."

"Taichi . . . ." says Takeru in his most threatening tone of voice.

There's a pause in which Takeru can quite clearly hear Taichi's breathing. It's a bit harsh, what one might call ragged even.

"Apparently Yamato thought I was in love with Sora." Taichi's voice is matter-of-fact and yet still oddly strained.

Takeru sighs. "Oh god, let me guess. He sacrificed his own happiness for his friends. Typical self-degrading Yamato."

"Baka," Taichi agrees.

The lull this time is noticeably less tense.

"Are you?" Takeru says, his tone confrontational again. "In love with Sora?"

"No," Taichi replies. "Even if I was, I wouldn't do that to Yamato."

Takeru wonders if he can trust him. He is, after all, with Sora at the moment. After a minute he decides that it _is _Taichi, and the man is absolutely transparent. If he was in love with Sora, no lie could have rolled off his tongue that easily.

"Good."

"Why were you trying to call him anyway?"

"Oh, right. Well, Koushiro called here after leaving a message on Yamato's cell. Apparently he got some sort of message from Gabumon. He said the file was corrupted and he couldn't make out much of it, but it sounded like he was in trouble."

Taichi groans on the other end. "Great. Perfect timing, huh?"

"Yeah, basically. If either of you hear from Yamato or figure out where he is, give me a call."

"Of course. I'll call Koushiro and see what else I can do."

"Okay, Taichi. Nice to hear from you."

"Sure. And Sora says she's sorry about being so difficult earlier."

Takeru laughs. "She should be. Bye."

He hangs up, worried.

"I hate when Yamato runs off like this," he mutters to himself.

"Don't worry, Takeru, Yamato will be okay," says Patamon, flapping his ridiculously large ears - or are they more accurately classified as wings? - and making his way over to Takeru.

"You sound like his parent," Hikari says with a small smile.

"Sometimes I feel like I _am_ his parent," Takeru replies with a short laugh. "And sometimes I feel like he's mine."

"I know how that is," Hikari says, genuinely giggling this time.

"Yeah, well, Taichi is about as emotionally mature as a five-year-old."

They share a laugh, then turn serious again.

"Takeru, you know Yamato better than anyone. Where do you think he's gone?"

Takeru looks up contemplatively. "I really don't know. I'd say the Digiworld, but if he's not with Gabumon I don't think he's there at all."

Hikari nods shortly.

"I'll call one of his band members," Takeru decides. "He might have called to cancel practice or something."

But he hasn't. When Takeru calls Akira, the first thing out of Akira's mouth is, "Oh, Takeru! Have you heard from Yamato?"

"That would have been too easy," Hikari says when Takeru bangs the phone down in obvious frustration.

"I guess," Takeru replies, dialing his father's number with the speed of familiarity and the furiousness of the very worried.

"Dad! Have you heard from Yamato lately?"

"Hi, Takeru. I haven't. Not for about a week," comes the familiar voice.

Takeru's mouth twitches. He briefs his father on the situation, ending with a quick, "Call me right away if you hear anything, okay?"

"Is it possible he'd go to your mom's?" Hikari asks softly.

Takeru leans his weight on the kitchen counter as if he can no longer hold himself up. "Not likely, but possible, I suppose."

But there's no such luck. After a short conversation with his mother that much resembles his earlier one with his dad, he hangs up the phone again.

"Come on, Takeru, have some dinner. We can call the other Digidestined afterwards."

* * *


	4. Digital Trouble

Author's note: Thanks to those who have reviewed! Your encouragement brightens my day and speeds my writing along.

Specific thanks:

Digisgrfrk: Thank you!

DarkMetalAngel of Destruction: Well, to be honest the fluff is a long way in coming. Another eight chapters or something. It's another chapter or three before they're even in the same room, oh dear me. But they say that the longer the romance is held off the more gratifying it feels when they do get together! Hope you keep reading anyway.

SailorRed: . You're far too kind. And I'm glad you think Sora's in character - I can never ever tell. It drives me crazy.

chibi-kid1: I'm so glad someone else thought about using that house besides me! I just love rural Japan, like in Tenchi Muyo and all of Hayao Miyazaki's films and so on and so forth. It's so gorgeous and it has that sense of history that makes me love the amazing state of New Mexico like I do.

JyouraKoumi: ...next time I hope you actually take the time to read something besides the pairings before actually reviewing.

Enjoy the chapter, y'all!

* * *

"I feel so guilty," says Sora, leaning forward intently, eyes on the road, lunch now long forgotten. "I just let him walk out. I should have at least asked him where he was going to go." 

Taichi, on the other hand, is scowling as he leans back in his seat, arms crossed and eyes closed. "Hmph," he says intelligibly.

"I am_ such_ a shitty friend!" Sora bangs her fist against the steering wheel.

Taichi makes no reply.

Sora spares him a quick glance. "See, you agree with me, don't you?"

"Don't worry about it," Taichi says, eyes still closed. "I didn't think to ask _you _where he was."

Sora looks at Taichi in disbelief. "Ohhhh, no, you don't, Taichi. You haven't even talked to Yamato in years - "

"Oh, don't remind me," Taichi says, his eyes finally popping open. "That's my fault too, you know, if I'd just - "

"If you'd just what?" Sora snaps, swerving to the left dangerously to avoid a passing car. "If you'd just pretended there was nothing wrong, I'm sure that would have worked, because you're such a_ wonderful _liar - "

"At least Yamato wouldn't have gone jumping to conclusions about everything!"

Sora rolls her eyes. "That's ridiculous. How do _you_ know he wouldn't have? It seems to me he's got a propensity for that kind of thing. Almost as much as _you _do."

"Shut up!" Taichi yells. In the back seat, Agumon and Piyomon exchange their best what-in-the-world-is-wrong-with-humans looks.

"They sound just like they did when they were kids," says Agumon.

"Yeah, I thought they were supposed to be grown up now."

The two digimon shrug. As far as they can see, there's not much difference.

As Sora and Taichi swap barbed words thinly disguising concern for Yamato and disgust with their own thoughtlessness, she can't help thinking what a strange turn of events this is, and how strange it is that she's adapted to it so easily. The knowledge that Taichi loves Yamato seeps into the corners of her consciousness easily, as easily as sticking a microwave dinner in the oven. Or slipping out of a bathrobe.

She blinks. What a strange analogy.

Still, she's finding it hard to accept her easy acceptance of this. Perhaps it's not as much of a surprise as it should be.

Now _that's_ interesting. Sora thinks back to Taichi and Yamato's easy camaraderie. Replaying scene after scene in her mind, she realizes just how close the two of them were. Half the time, they maintained the kind of comfortable silence that indicates complete understanding, and half of their conversations were left unsaid, leaving anyone listening wallowing in complete confusion. And in every fight, they stood side by side, an unbreakable wall of determination and trust. Back then, she'd attributed it to . . . well, she didn't know what she'd attributed it to, really, but she'd taken it for granted.

She's not saying it's true love, or even requited, but . . . well, it makes sense that a friendship that close yielded something more.

"Aww, Sora, you missed the exit!" Taichi groans.

Sora blinks, surprised, the road coming into focus again. "Whoops. Guess I wasn't paying attention."

"No kidding," Taichi mutters. "I guess we'd better stop arguing. Get off here, I'll show you the back way."

The rest of the ride to Koushiro's apartment passes in silence.

* * *

Koushiro is typing furiously away on his computer with one hand and dialing the phone with the other. An impressive feat, to be sure, but as a computer analyst it's almost required. Anyway, it's not as if multi-tasking like this gets you invited to a lot of parties. 

Koushiro smiles at that thought. _Parties,_ hah. It's not as if Koushiro hasn't done his fair share of drinking to drown his sorrows - God, he's done a lot more than his share, Taichi can attest to that - but he doesn't like boisterous crowds of people or loud music and he especially doesn't like dancing. It's a spectacle, and if there's one thing that Koushiro can't stand it's the false allure of spectacle.

He and Taichi's friendship these days is based on alcohol. Who would have thought that Taichi of all people would be a quiet drunk? But he is. Maybe because he's so damn irrepressible the rest of the time. He talks in an effort to conceal his emotions, or maybe he even talks to try to get them out, a desperate but nonetheless futile attempt to connect with everyone around him, but if this is the case Koushiro is forced to admit it has some merit because Taichi's far more successful socially than he'll ever be. But truthfully this doesn't seem to be an accurate proposition because Taichi is never forced, never fake. Talking comes naturally to him, so naturally that Taichi blurts out everything that has ever crossed his mind without thinking, which is why he can appear so clueless to people who don't know him, although to be strictly honest he is at least a little clueless even when you do know him, and it's really quite extraordinary that Taichi has managed to keep quiet about Yamato for so long, being as loquacious as he is.

But when Taichi visits the blurry, removed world of drunkenness he just wallows in his emotions. It's one of the few occasions where you won't find him talking. Anyway, that's why the two of them make such good drinking buddies.

"Hello-o?" says the phone saccharinely and Koushiro, absorbed in his thoughts, almost drops it in surprise.

"Mimi, it's Koushiro," he says, recovering quickly.

"Koushiro! Hi!"

"Hi. I'm calling to inquire as to whether you've heard anything from Yamato or the Digiworld lately." He quickly explains the situation to her.

"Well, Tanemon's here," Mimi says finally. "I'll ask her if she knows anything."

A series of loud bangs at his front door makes Koushiro jump.

"Excellent. Thank you, Mimi," he says, rising from his chair, making sure to lock his keyboard before he goes. Can't be too careful when it comes to protecting the old hard drive.

Koushiro weaves his way through piles of stuff, some of it garbage, some of it of extreme personal importance. Lately his apartment is looking increasingly similar to Taichi's, but at least he has his computer and his work as an excuse.

Whoever's at the door bangs on it again.

"Impatient, are we?" Koushiro mutters. He can hear Mimi's voice in the background of the telephone still, presumably talking to Tanemon or maybe Michael.

Tentomon comes fluttering out of the kitchen. "I would answer it but I don't have any hands," he jokes in his mechanical manner.

Koushiro releases the latch and opens the door to find Sora and Taichi panting breathlessly on the stoop, their digimon behind them. Takeru must have called them, then.

"Come in," he says, pointing to the phone. "Tentomon?"

"You got it," Tentomon replies, ushering the four visitors into the living room.

"No luck, Koushiro," comes Mimi's voice a second later.

He sighs. "All right. I've got to go, but give me a call if you hear anything."

"Same to you. I mean it, Koushiro."

Koushiro smiles. It appears Mimi's love for gossip of all sorts remains intact, despite the severity of the situation.

In the living room, Taichi and Sora sit tensely on the sofa. The digimon look far more comfortable, honestly.

"All right," Koushiro says in his most businesslike voice. "We can't proceed with a plan of action until we have every possible piece of information on the table."

"_What_ information?" Sora says despairingly. "Yamato took nothing that would give away where he went, and he didn't say anything to anyone."

"We don't know that yet," says Koushiro. "Now, I've called Mimi and Jyou but I haven't called any of the younger Digidestined yet. They might have heard something from him, or at the least something about Gabumon's situation in the Digiworld."

"It's not likely," Agumon speaks up. "I was in the Digiworld only yesterday and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

"And Yamato's not really close with any of the new kids," Taichi adds.

"Who knows, he may have called Ken looking for empathy. If any of us have been through dark times it's him." Sora reasons.

"Dark times?" Koushiro asks.

"Yamato and Sora broke up," Piyomon says bluntly.

Koushiro blinks. "Right. Well, even if he hasn't contacted any of them, there are other things we can do. Just let me get my computer."

"I'll call Miyako," Sora says as he walks out, pulling her cell phone from her coat pocket. "You call Daisuke."

Koushiro's mind works a bit like a computer program, taking pieces of information and treating them as variables in whatever problem he's trying to solve. So he collects piece by piece and plugs them in one at a time until he can reduce the problem to the simplest possible solution. It's very mathematical, and it always works, as long as all the variables can be found and as long as there are no unknowns interfering. Right now, the equation of where in hell Yamato is and the equation of what's happening to Gabumon are just two long strings of variables and unknowns, but a million other related calculations are churning in his mind.

Life is algebra.

Koushiro brings his laptop into the living room and begins typing away.

"All the new kids are on their way over," Taichi chirps.

"Prodigious," he replies, already absorbed in his work. "We may not have a situation here, but if we do we'll need all the help we can get."

A terse silence falls, Taichi and Sora looking still more nervous and Koushiro at work on the computer.

"Oh _no,_" he says after a few minutes.

"What is it?" Taichi asks, sitting up alertly in his chair. In direct contrast, Sora sinks back into hers, as if Koushiro's concerned voice is an enormous weight.

"Look at this," Koushiro says grimly, turning the computer for them to see. On the screen is what looks like a geographical relief map.

"What is it?" Agumon says after a minute of staring at the map, echoing Taichi's earlier question.

"It charts power lines in our world," he explains, "from a compilation of data from the world's major energy companies. From this we can see a little bit of evidence of the energy flow between our world and the digital world."

Koushiro points out the energy plants on the map. "These areas indicate incoming energy from nuclear plants, coal plants, solar and wind power, and other sources.

"In our world all energy comes directly or indirectly from the sun, but energy in the digital world comes directly from ours. More specifically, it comes from our Internet. Following the law of conservation of energy, any energy taken up by the digital world will eventually be released back_ into_ ours in the form of electrical discharges."

Taichi and Sora are looking at him as if he's got two heads. Koushiro is used to this look. He is, after all, in computers.

"As a result, there is usually an equilibrium of energy discharge and energy consumption. This is upset when a lot of data is being permanently erased, such as when parts of the Digital world are destroyed. The result of such a situation is always a discharge of electricity into our world, represented on this chart by these orange areas." Koushiro points at several small areas on the map.

"These are termed unexplained power surges by electrical engineers who know nothing of the digital world."

He pauses again and studies the map, gathering his words to continue.

"However, the_ consumption_ of energy by the digital world is marginal. In fact, the digital world does not consume energy at all. Rather it absorbs excess data, which doesn't show up on the chart because the data is waste. If that data weren't absorbed by the digital world it would just be released as heat.

"The amount of excess data released into the digital world is enough to account for all digivolutions and all biological growth, and in fact for the digital sun itself. Even with all this taken in, there is still leftover data. "

"Fascinating," Tentomon says encouragingly.

"So what are these orange and red areas?" Taichi asks, pointing at the graph.

"There's our trouble," Koushiro answers darkly. "Something's consuming a hell of a lot of energy."

"How do we know that it's something from the Digiworld?" Sora says quietly.

"Look at the gate." Koushiro pulls up the window for them.

"It's open," says Sora, stunned.

"Every gate that exists has been opened." Koushiro explains. "They're sucking small amounts of energy through to the other side."

Taichi and Sora exchange twin looks of horror.

"What could it be?"

"I don't know yet. If we make a guess using precedent as a guide I'd have to say it's some sort of evil digimon trying to harness power."

"So what do we do?" Sora whispers.

"We need to find out what it is. And we need to find Yamato. If Gabumon is involved, he needs to know." Taichi says firmly.

Koushiro nods.

"I'm going to map out the range of Yamato's cell phone plan. If we can determine the areas where it doesn't work we'll have greatly lowered our possible locations."

"That's brilliant, Koushiro," says Sora.

"After that, I'll run some tests on various places in the digital world and see if I can pinpoint specific loci containing unusual amounts of energy."

"I have a good nose," Agumon offers. "If we've got a bunch of places to search, I can try to sniff out Gabumon's scent."

"Great," says Taichi, obviously stepping up to the leader role as always. "It's really important we find Yamato as soon as possible, because he's hurt and lonely - and likely to go off and do something stupid."

"Are you sure you're not just thinking of what you'd do in his situation, Taichi?" asks Agumon.

Tai whacks him friendlily. "Oh, shut it, you. But we also have to find out what's going on with Gabumon before his situation gets worse."

"If it hasn't already," Koushiro adds gravely.

"And we have to find out what's using all that energy. If we bring Imperialdramon into the real world, we'll be able to find Yamato faster," Taichi says. "We need to split up. Anyone whose digimon's got a good nose comes with me and Agumon to the Digiworld, and everyone else will have to help Daisuke and Ken."

"I'll stay here," Koushiro suggests. "That way I can convey messages between everyone and keep an eye on the digital world from my computer."

"Of course," Taichi agrees. "Let's do it."

Koushiro smiles. Some things never change.


	5. Unfit For Cohabitation

Author's note: I wonder if begging for reviews really does increase the amount received? I'm tempted to make a chart, or come up with some sort of logarithmic expression or something. Sometimes I channel Koushiro.

Anyway, I haven't disclaimed anything yet, so here is my disclaimer. It goes for the full story, because I'm lazy. I do not own Digimon.

Summary: Yamato realizes that he's been keeping Taichi and Sora apart and runs away to rural Japan. His timing couldn't possibly be worse. Taito/Yamachi.

Rating: R, for language and slash. There's actually some language in this chapter. Although if I remember correctly, there was a little in the last one too? Anyway, on with the fic.

* * *

_There. _It's clean.

Yamato grins, exhilarated, as he looks around his sparkling white but frighteningly empty home.

The exhilaration of the moment fades, however, as he begins to contemplate what to do next. Shimane is no tourist town. It has a severe lack of hip furniture stores or even antique shops, but there's a small possibility he can find something to buy. And it is absolutely essential that he populate his house with stuff.

Yamato grabs his keys and wallet and heads out the door.

His house. Yamato considers this for a moment. It's not strictly his, per se, it's his and Takeru's. He feels guilty for grabbing possession of it like this, and without even asking or telling his brother, but all he wants is another chance, and he wants to take it alone, and if he wants this to happen not even Takeru can know where he is.

It's possible that Takeru would have kept his secret, at least for a while, but Yamato knows that despite appearances Hikari is the dominant one in that relationship, and secrets between them don't last. And Hikari is Taichi's sister, and so that's that, and Yamato tells no one.

In an ideal world he would have at least brought Gabumon. God, he wishes he could have. But that's more out of the question than telling Takeru. Digimon need to visit the Digital World about once a week to regain energy, and Yamato doesn't have a computer out here. Even if he did, the energy discharge that occurs when a port is opened would allow Koushiro to immediately locate him.

Yamato sighs. He's broken contact with absolutely everyone in his life, and it's frightening. Everything is new and unfamiliar. It's what he wants, though, to start over completely, and it's not as if he's hurting any of his friends or family by leaving them, not permanently anyway. They don't need him anymore. Sure, they'll worry at first, but after a while the daily routine will set back in and his absence will be filled with mundanities like doing the laundry and running to the grocery store for more milk.

He parks his car a little out of town and walks the rest of the way. There is an almost fall-like crispness to the air, which is decidedly strange because it's still summer, but it makes the walk pleasantly cool.

The streets of Shimane are lined with food vendors, everything from noodle shops to bakeries to candy stores. There's a shop selling manga and books on the corner but other than that Yamato can't see, hear or smell anything but cooking food. The townspeople must buy everything else in another town, he surmises, because they certainly don't get their dinner tables and televisions around here.

"Noodle shop, noodle shop, grocer's," he mutters as he walks down the street, reading the signs aloud, "fishmonger, pharmacy, candy store . . . tropical fish?"

He goggles in amazement. There, nestled between a candy store and yet another noodle shop, is a tiny darkened store with a sign overhead announcing simply "Tropical Fish" in large black letters. A yellow angelfish is painted on the window.

Yamato shakes his head, disbelieving. How in hell does a tropical fish store stay in business in Shimane? Maybe they're not pets, but some sort of rare delicacy.

Too intrigued to continue walking, Yamato walks over and pulls the door open.

To his even greater surprise, the shop is fairly busy. Several old couples are huddled together, backs bent, hands clasped and eyes shining, studying quietly the undersea world that has so unexpectedly been transported to their tiny town, just in time for the end of their lives. Small children stand on their tiptoes, peering into the mysterious blue depths of the tanks excitedly and whispering among themselves. Harassed-looking parents make their way between children and grandparents frantically, barely noticing the fish adorning the walls.

Yamato wanders row after row of tanks absently. The fish shine under the fluorescent lights as they swim around, little glimmering darts of motion. One particularly big tank contains a large, frowning grouper. Yamato frowns back at it.

There's something intrinsically soothing about fish, he reflects, resuming his wandering. There's something about the quiet stillness of their watery world, the intensity of their wide stares, that just calms the mind. It's almost as if you can forget yourself into aquatic paradise . . . .

Yamato makes up his mind right then. He wants a fish.

The man behind the counter looks at him skeptically when Yamato approaches him. "Just one?"

Yamato considers. He doesn't want fleets of fish - he has a feeling that would only exacerbate his loneliness. He wants a fish as alone as he is, so that they'll be each other's only company. Their sole solace. "That's right," he tells the salesman firmly.

"Then what you need is a betta."

The man points to a wall near the front lined with tiny plastic containers. In each sits a solitary fish.

Yamato walks over and peers into the cups. The fish look as if living in such tight quarters is really getting them down. Their fins droop, their mouths tug down at the corners, and they are mostly stationary. Despite their vibrant colors, they are a truly depressing sight.

"Why do you keep them in these things?" he calls back to the salesman.

The man comes to stand next to Yamato. "These are Siamese fighting fish. You put two of the males into the same tank, they'll kill each other. They're unfit for cohabitation."

"Huh," says Yamato.

"They also don't need to be in a tank with a filter. They breathe air from the surface, you see. Cuts down cost significantly," the man adds, somewhat unnecessarily. Yamato is already sold.

Unfit for cohabitation - just like he is.

Perfect.

"I'll take one," Yamato declares.

"I'll be at the counter," the man grunts in reply. "Whenever you're ready."

Yamato deliberates over the fish carefully. They come in many shades of red and blue and there's even a sort of ugly brownish gold one he likes because it stands out. He's considering the possibility of a fiery orange fish with particularly beady eyes when he spots the one.

The fish appears agitated, staring attentively at the large red male in the bowl next to its own. Its fins are fully extended, its little body rigid. The colors are magnificent, quite unlike any of the other fish around it. It's neither red nor blue but somewhere in between, not purple but a bright fuschia, and its scales shimmer gold in the light. It's somehow more alive than the others, and though this isn't a quality Yamato was looking for, it's an appealing quality nonetheless.

Yamato smiles and flicks his finger against the fish's plastic house. The fish immediately snaps around to glare at him with alert eyes. He chuckles.

"Well, aren't you a feisty one," he says, amused, and it's not a question. He picks up the fish, grabs the requisite supplies and makes his way back to the counter.

"Good choice," says the man at the counter. "This one's got pretty unusual coloring."

Yamato beams.

"Whatcha going to name it?" the man asks.

Yamato blinks. "I hadn't thought about it," he confesses. After all, he's only just seen the thing.

"Well, you've got to give it a name," the man reproaches him. "That purple and gold reminds me me of fire. Maybe you should name him after that god. You know, Izanami's son . . . what's-his-name."

"Kagututi?" Yamato offers skeptically.

"That's the one," the man says, staring at Yamato expectantly. Oh god, he's not going to get out of here until he names the damn thing, is he.

"That's a great idea," he says in a falsely enthusiastic voice. "I could call him Kagu for short."

"There you go," says the man triumphantly, and rings him up without another word.

Walking out of the store, Yamato can't help but feel a little embarrassed by his purchase. What in the world does he need a fish for? And why would he think that he, of all people, is capable or responsible enough to take the life of another creature into his foolish, inexperienced hands?

Oh god, he's going to wake up to find the poor thing floating upside down at the top of its bowl tomorrow morning.

He sighs. Maybe this is how his parents felt when they brought him home from the hospital.

In any case, it's too late now. The fish is his. His to love, his to hate, his to nurture or kill.

Yamato feels no sense of power, just an enormous burden and a sense of sadness and regret so large it's stifling. Is this what God feels like? He remembers reading this somewhere: "Be _not_ like me. I am alone," and it's good advice from a flawed God to his more flawed creation, so he whispers it to Kagu before he realizes what he's doing and before he realizes he's accidentally adopted the salesman's name for the fish.

I'm talking to a fish, he thinks to himself wryly. I'm talking to a fish named after a fire god. This is a_ great _way to start a new life.

* * *

There are about a hundred_ million_ things Taichi would rather be doing right now, and most of them involve Yamato.

For example, he'd like to find the stupid, difficult moron and punch some sense straight into his brain, the self-absorbed_ fuck._ You wouldn't think you could be _half _as arrogant as Yamato and remain convinced that no one could ever possibly love you but somehow Yamato pulls it off, Yamato the walking contradiction, the bundled bag of frazzled neurons, the incredibly volatile, idiotic combination of self-loathing and self-pity, the lonely loner, the self-defaming rock star. The boy who spends half the time isolating himself and then turns around making unreasonable demands for affection from the very people he's shut out.

Taichi unconsciously clenches his teeth as he becomes lost in his thoughts. Yamato is the most selfish person he's ever met, by a long shot. Not only is he so obsessed with his self-hatred that he doesn't notice that Taichi and Sora do, in actuality, care for him pretty damn deeply, he left, and as far as Taichi is concerned leaving people who love you is about as selfish as you can get. Even if Yamato had some legitimate reason to think that he and Sora love each other and not him, there's still Takeru and Yamato's parents, and Taichi has been friends with Yamato for long enough to know that, even with their problems, his parents love him more than anything, and Takeru of course absolutely worships his older brother. Yamato knows this too, that's what's so frustrating to Taichi. He can't understand how anyone could abandon his family like that. Especially Yamato, who, despite appearances, really does care about them, more than any casual observer could imagine.

Yamato's problem is that he feels too much, Taichi decides. Or is it that he's afraid of feeling too much? Probably both. In real life all the multiple choice questions are answered 'all of the above.' Yamato is afraid of feeling and so he pushes it away to the back of his mind where it swells and swells and threatens to engulf him, and it must be terrifying to feel that way. Taichi knows how that kind of thing is, he's got plenty of experience in the way of unwanted emotions. It's why they get along. It's also why they fought so much in the Digiworld - their feelings are enormous, like dark, thick rain clouds on the brink of releasing a heavy thunderstorm.

Taichi scowls. At least _he_ acknowledges his feelings. Stupid Yamato.

The irony of love is that, as much as Taichi wants to punch Yamato, he also wants to kiss him so fiercely he'll get some sense knocked into him, or so gently that he could never tell himself he was unloved ever again. He wants to shake the card house of Yamato's insecurities until it all comes tumbling down. He wants to comfort him, scream at him, apologize to him - the list is never-ending.

But mostly Taichi just wants to cry.

Considering his current location, he doesn't think he will.

He stops pacing, faces the others and sets his face into its most determined look.

"Okay, first order of business - if _any_ of you ever decide to run off like this, which I certainly hope you never do, you do_ not _leave without giving us a way to contact you. I don't care how fucked up you're feeling, just tell_ someone _where you are so we can avoid this situation again."

Everyone nods, looking nervous at his vehemence.

"Good. Now to work. Anyone whose digimon's got a good nose over here with me. Anyone else, go with Daisuke and Ken."

In the sudden bustle of movement, Taichi almost misses Takeru's question.

"Shouldn't someone with a good nose go with Daisuke and Ken? To sniff out Yamato?"

"I want to come with you!" Miyako's voice rises easily out of the crowd.

Taichi sighs. Does no one respect leadership anymore?

"Go," he says, catching Takeru's eyes. He turns to Miyako.

"Don't you want to go with Ken?" he asks her gently.

Miyako scowls. "Why does everyone expect me to follow him around like some enamored schoolgirl? I want to be useful!"

You are an enamored schoolgirl, Taichi thinks. But he understands where she's coming from. "And how could you help if you came with us?"

"You need someone with good eyes," says Miyako firmly. "And Hawkmon's got the best eyes of all the digimon. He can fly up and check for Gabumon from above."

Taichi nods. What Miyako says does make sense, and he's not going to force her to go with her boyfriend if she doesn't want to. Who knows, they might be fighting, although Taichi's pretty sure she's just undergoing the self-confidence dive that comes from dating a genius like Ken. He imagines it must be a lot like having a famous rock star for a best friend.

"You're in," he says, and Miyako squeals with delight. He looks over his tiny rag-tag group critically. There's Miyako and Hawkmon, Hikari and Tailmon, Jyou and Gomamon, and Agumon and himself. Oh, and Tentomon, whose link with Koushiro will make it easier to keep in contact with the others. It's not much to work with, but at least Hikari and Miyako are jogress partners so in a pinch they'll have two ultimates and a mega. Hopefully they won't have to digivolve though. This is just a scout group, after all. The fighting should come after they find Yamato.

Taichi reminds himself to thank Koushiro again after this is all over. Koushiro's years of research in the digital world have more than paid off, as he has since developed new crests and digivices for the original Digidestined, allowing their partners to digivolve to their ultimate and mega forms again. This had at first been met with some resistance on the part of some of the other Digidestined, who felt that this sort of messing around with the Digiworld was not their place. But, as Hikari had put it, when Gennai and his group made the digivices, they'd given them a duty to protect the digital world, and they were doing nothing more than carrying out this charge.

Taichi fondly looks over at his sister, at once wise beyond her years and still a child. Well, most people wouldn't call her a child anymore - she is nineteen, after all, married and starting college, but she'll always be a child to Taichi.

Catching his glance, Hikari steps up to him, her expression serious, and clasps both of his hands in one gentle motion. Her hands seem delicate and almost frail in his, and he stares down at them in consternation.

"Taichi," she says softly. "Don't worry."

"I'm not," he says just as softly, the contradiction slipping past his lips before he has time to actually consider it.

"You are," Hikari asserts. "But don't."

Taichi watches her step back into line with their other two companions. Is he worried?

Of course he is. But Hikari's right, he can't. Courage takes an acknowledgment of risk, certainly, but after that it requires reckless dismissal of it.

"You guys ready?"

"Ready for almost certain death? Never," Jyou replies immediately, mostly joking.

Taichi grins. Same old reliable Jyou.

"Digiport open!" Miyako yells, pointing her D3 at the computer.

"Miyako, it's already open." Hikari says, putting her hand on the other girl's shoulder and stifling a giggle. A blush makes its speckled way across Miyako's face.

"Good luck, you guys!" Koushiro calls just before they're sucked into another world.

Sometimes someone who's never been to the digital world will ask Taichi what traveling through a digiport feels like. To be honest, it doesn't feel like much. It reminds him a little of looking at a picture for a long time, and then blinking, and suddenly seeing something you hadn't before. Like a re-alignment, and suddenly you find you're in a different place.

The colors are brighter in the Digiworld. It's as if there's a whole new spectrum, and it hurts human eyes at first glance.

The Digiworld, with its bright, multicolored array of jungle-like plant life, sometimes seems like a parody, an over-exaggerated estimation of what primitive Earth must have been like. The intensity of the sun and the depths of the shadows only serve to aggrandize that feeling, as do the giant monsters lurking around every corner. How ironic that such a world was born of technology.

Taichi shakes himself out of his reverie.

"All right, let's get moving."

* * *

Author's note: Okay, so I actually have stuff to say about this chapter! Mostly that, yes, Kagututi is based on my own dear betta, Ignatius Trout, who is currently recovering from a bout with extremely-disgusting-eye-growth disease, and yes he's named after a line in a Harry Potter fic, shut up.

And also that, yes, nineteen is disgustingly young to be married - I'm nineteen and I will be shocked and horrified if I end up married in under five or even ten years. But hey, it's Hikari and Takeru. I don't know. I think it works.

Oh, and that I love writing from Taichi's point of view. I love writing about Taichi in general. He is amazing, that's all there is to it.


	6. The Abyss Gazes Also

Author's note: Wow, this is the latest in the day I've ever updated. I got pretty carried away today, selling back textbooks and going to anthropology museums and decorating my dorm room for Christmas. I _love _Christmas! Not that that has anything to do with the fic, but hey.

I can't believe I'm already on chapter _six_! It's going to be over before I know it, and then I'll be sad. I might have to write a Christmas Taito.

* * *

Imperialdramon stands erect in the wide expanse of nothingness that is Texas. In between the distant mountains on one horizon and the faint glimmer of faraway buildings on the other is nothing more than dirt and rocks and the wind that stirs them from the ground, howling hungrily. 

"I don't think he's here," says Digmon, breaking the silence that has descended upon the group.

"Yeah," Mimi agrees, a look of disgust crossing her pretty face as she scans the landscape skeptically. "What would Yamato be doing in this wasteland anyway?"

Takeru's face is set determinedly. "I still think we should cruise the area and check. There might be some tiny town that we can't see from here."

Daisuke snorts. "No way, Takeru. This place is so empty we'd be able to see Yamato if he was anywhere in the next ten miles."

Takeru can feel his throat closing up and something in him snaps.

"You're just being lazy," he accuses, his voice ascending rapidly, "you don't care if we find Yamato!"

"Takeru!" Patamon cries.

"That's not true!"

"Please stop fighting!" Piyomon steps in.

"Takeru's right," Ken speaks up quietly. The others shut up and turn to look at him hopefully; the boy is both quiet and stunningly intelligent, a combination that means when Ken speaks, everyone listens.

"Aw, man!" Daisuke exclaims, crossing his arms. Takeru can't help a smug grin, his anger fading at Daisuke's actions.

"Even if we can, hypothetically, see for ten miles in all directions, we wouldn't necessarily be able to spot Yamato. This is a large out-of-service area, spanning about one hundred square miles. I suggest we carry out a fly over, just to make sure."

"It's a good point, Ken," Sora speaks up slowly, "but . . . I think we need to start making more educated guesses after this. There's not a lot of reasons Yamato would come to Texas, and if there's some place that might be more meaningful to him we should search there first."

Daisuke charges ahead as always, swinging himself onto Imperialdramon's back. "What are you guys waiting for? Come on!"

* * *

Yamato has set up a chair opposite his fish's bowl. At first he'd watched the fish's movements with interest but now his gaze is unfocused, his pupils wide.

He's swimming in memories.

He remembers once upon a time he was young and small in this house. He remembers his grandmother's kind smile and the folds of wrinkles on her face. How high even the walls had seemed back then. If he looks closely, will he see tiny handprints written in the dust?

To his horror, Yamato finds there's something tight and painful clutching its large, desperate claws at his chest. I am not going to cry, he tells himself, I am_ not _going to cry.

Unbidden, a distant memory of going to temple with his grandmother rises to the surface of his mind, and Yamato can't help it - he bursts out sobbing.

* * *

Koushiro yawns. It's a time of crisis, sure, but at the moment there's a lull in the action. Neither Daisuke nor Taichi have called for about twenty minutes now, and Tentomon hasn't said anything for ten. 

He pulls up the energy chart again. No change. Giant surges of electricity are still disappearing off into nowhere.

Unable to suppress another yawn, Koushiro casually reaches under his desk and opens his miniature refrigerator, fully equipt with snacks and drinks for emergency can't-leave-the-computer situations. An extra refrigerator may seem extraneous to some, but for Koushiro these kinds of situations are far too common occurrences, and so it's either the refrigerator or anorexia.

He pulls out a generic energy drink and pops the lid, careful not to spill any on his precious keyboard. These things are basically syrup, and they're sticky as hell.

"_Koushiro!_" cries Taichi's voice suddenly, and Koushiro fumbles the drink. It slips out of his hands momentarily, but he manages to catch it at the last moment.

"I'm here," he snaps, annoyed to find that a few drops of his drink have, in fact, found their way onto his keyboard.

"Check the area we're in," Taichi replies curtly.

* * *

In another world, Taichi waits impatiently for Koushiro's prognosis. He and the others are crouched behind some truly impenetrably thick shrubbery, peering out at a quite unexpected castle. According to Agumon and Hawkmon, this area had been undeveloped as of yesterday. And now this, this castle made of large gray stones, each at least as tall as he is. 

Surprisingly, there are no Bakemon patrolling the edges, as there usually are with these evil digimon types. In fact, there's nothing to be seen patrolling the castle at all. It makes Taichi nervous. Bakemon he can deal with, but the unknown is much more frightening.

There's got to be some sort of security on a castle as grandiose as this one, he reasons, frowning. But what?

"Look!" Gomamon cries out, pointing one extremely long claw towards the left side of the castle. Taichi follows his paw and gasps. A giant rock is slowing lifting itself up the side of the building. As they watch, it ascends past the north tower and carefully lowers itself into an empty spot at the top.

"What in hell . . . " Taichi breathes.

"Okay, this is freaky. Can we get out of here now?" Jyou says pleadingly.

"Jyou! We can't just leave - " Miyako starts angrily.

"Yes, we can," Jyou interrupts her. "We can go back to Koushiro's and wait for the others and then come back when we're actually _prepared._"

"We won't be prepared if we don't know what we're facing," Tailmon tells him sternly.

"Taichi?" Koushiro's voice is tinny and small.

"Koushiro!" Taichi exclaims. "Well?"

"Be careful!" Koushiro warns. "The region you're in is in fact the one we're seeking. It's sucking in about a hundred watts of electricity per second. Can you see anything usual?"

"Yeah, a castle," Hikari answers from behind Taichi. "And a big one, too."

"We're going to try to sneak in," Taichi tells Koushiro. "To see if we can see anything."

"Okay," says Koushiro, sounding worried, "but please stay out of sight. And be _careful_."

"Oh, we will be," Jyou mutters under his breath, "if I have anything to do with it."

* * *

To his extreme annoyance, Yamato's sobs aren't desisting. They're growing louder and louder, more and more painful, as his most hidden feelings and memories finally surface themselves: 

His mother determinedly not looking back as she and Takeru pull away from their apartment building for the last time, tear trails visible on Takeru's tiny face in the rear window. . .

His grandmother's ashes scattering in the wind . . .

The look on Gabumon's face as Yamato returns to the real world, leaving him behind . . .

A young Taichi turning his back on Yamato . . .

Sora's pretty face, shining with pity . . .

The feeling of loneliness that envelops him as Takeru and Hikari kiss chastely, the wedding congregation behind them erupting into an uproarious cheer . . .

Coming home to an empty answering machine and realizing that Taichi hasn't returned his calls again . . .

Searching through piles and piles of chocolates on Valentine's day only to find that none of them are from people he knows, and not a single one means anything at all . . .

How quickly the other Digidestined turn against him when he attacks them in the Digiworld. . .

Taichi's angry face, right before a punch in the gut . . .

Takeru standing up against Myotismon, his little face scrunched up in determination, Yamato proud and yet still somehow betrayed . . .

And finally, from the recesses of Yamato's imagination, Taichi and Sora gazing into each other's eyes, loving, adoring, completely absorbed in one another.

Yamato's feelings of futility and sorrow swell even more, his crying now somewhere way past hysterical.

* * *

"Grandpère?" 

Takeru is rushed and worried, but his French is still impeccable.

"Grandpère, c'est moi, Takeru - "

Sora can hear the old man's excitement from where she stands several feet away. His voice is exuberant but static-y over the phone, and from Takeru's wince she deduces that the old man is talking quite loudly.

"Grandpère, s'il-vous-plaît, m'entendez-vous! Avez-vous vu Yamato récemment?"

There is a pause. Takeru's grandfather must have lowered his voice, because Sora can no longer hear his side of the conversation.

"Non? A-t-il vous telephoné?"

Pause.

"Parce qu'il a disparu. Sora et lui, ils avaient rompu."

Pause. Sora feels a quick stab of guilt at the mention of her name.

"Oui, je suis d'accord. Il _est_ probable qu'il revenira, à la fin. Mais nous avons besoin de lui trouver trés bientôt. Il y a un problème dans le Digiworld."

Pause.

"Nous pensons qu'il eusse été dans le sud de France."

Pause.

"D'accord, je comprends. Merci, Grandpère. Je vous telephonerai quand nous lui trouvons. À bientôt."

Takeru hangs up the phone, looking upset. "No luck."

"He still might be in France," Iori points out. "Just because he didn't call your grandfather doesn't mean he didn't come here."

"That's right," pipes up Piyomon. "He probably wouldn't have called your grandfather, knowing that he'd call you or your parents if he knew. But France still has sentimental value to Yamato."

"I think there's something highly unlikely about the way we're going about this," says Ken matter-of-factly. "I mean, we're looking at it as if Yamato had this in front of him when he left." He holds up the map Koushiro gave them of the out-of-service areas of Yamato's phone.

"I seriously doubt he did any such thing. I'm sure that the fact that his phone doesn't work, wherever he is, is just a fortunate coincidence for Yamato."

"And an unfortunate one for us," Mimi adds.

"So what?" Daisuke says.

"So I doubt he's in the south of France. After all, the only part of France that has any meaning for Yamato and Takeru is Paris, where their grandfather lives."

"Takeru?" Patamon inquires gently.

"Ken's right," Takeru confirms. "I've been to Provence with Mom and Grandpère, but Yamato hasn't been out of Paris before. There's no reason for him to go to that region except that it's the only part of France that's out of his cell phone range."

Daisuke grabs the map from Ken. "So where else is important to Yamato?"

"He's come to visit me in New York quite a few times," Mimi suggests. "While he was on tour in the states."

"I have a feeling New York's covered," Palmon says dryly from her side.

"Sora, did he ever say anything about particular places he went on tour?" Takeru asks her.

Sora chuckles. "He always absolutely hated Los Angeles."

Takeru nods. "He told me that, too."

"It wouldn't be unlike him to punish himself by going somewhere he didn't actually like," Sora reasons, looking at Takeru hopefully.

But Daisuke, holding the map, says, "Covered," and that's the end of that train of thought.

"All the major U.S. cities are covered," Ken adds from beside him. "International ones, too."

"All the places Yamato toured, basically," Takeru mutters.

Daisuke places his index finger over Japan. "Takeru, is there any reason why Yamato would be anywhere in western Japan? 'Cause there are some mountains here out of service range."

Takeru stares incredulously at Daisuke for a minute, then collapses into a helpless heap onto the ground. "Oh my god," he says in a tiny voice.

"What? What did I say?"

Takeru doesn't speak for another couple seconds. When he does, he's not looking at any of them but at a spot a little in front of his face. His voice is distant.

"Yamato and I own a house in Shimane."

There's a moment of stunned silence.

"And when were you going to bring that up?" Iori says sarcastically.

"I honestly didn't think of it," says Takeru sheepishly. "Our grandmother left it to us when she passed away, and neither of us have ever used it, or even talked about using it. We kind of had this mutual agreement that we wanted nothing to do with it."

"Why?" Mimi asks, flabbergasted.

"It's too sad." Takeru blinks slowly. "Everything about that house would remind us of her."

"Do you think he's there?" Ken asks Takeru seriously.

"Yes."

Everyone looks at Sora, who is as surprised as the rest at her outburst. She looks down at her feet, thinking. "Yamato likes to either pretend everything's okay or wallow, and . . . he left because he didn't want to pretend with me anymore. So - so it makes sense that he would go there."

"But wouldn't he have told Takeru?" Piyomon asks. "Since the house belongs to both of them?"

Takeru sighs. "He would have wanted to, I think. But Yamato is capable of justifying anything if he wants to run away, and he wouldn't have wanted anyone to know where he is."

"So you think he's in Shimane, too?" Daisuke asks.

"I'm sure of it," Takeru says firmly.

The brief silence that follows is broken by Imperialdramon's low growl. "Now what?"

"Now that we know where he is, we should split up again." Takeru says. "I'll get Yamato, and the rest of you go back to Koushiro's and join Taichi and the others in the Digiworld."

"You mean you and me and Ken will go get Yamato," Daisuke corrects. "How do you think you're gonna get there?"

Takeru sighs again. "Fine. Let's just go."

* * *

The castle is surprisingly empty. The echoes of their footsteps through the halls ricochet back and forth loudly. Taichi finds that he's holding his breath. He knows something's got to be aware of their presence, and he's sure that, any moment now, some large digimon will come charging down the halls before they have a chance to react. 

He jumps about three feet when Agumon pulls on his shirt.

"Taichi," Agumon is whispering, "Taichi, I can smell Gabumon."

Taichi whips around at alarming speed. "_Where?_" he hisses.

Agumon points down a corridor that is far more brightly lit than the others.

"Lead the way, my friend," Taichi whispers. Agumon does, tilting his great yellow head from side to side and sniffing the air experimentally.

They end up going straight down the corridor, bypassing all possible turns, and stopping at the wall at the end.

Agumon looks around, confused. "The smell is strongest here," he explains.

"There's no door," Miyako wails as loudly as it is possible to wail while still whispering.

"Wait," says Hikari, a strange look on her face. She steps closer to the wall slowly, peering at it with that odd intensity that only she can really pull off, before pressing one hand against it experimentally.

It begins to glow.

Taichi blinks.

Hikari carefully peels her hand off. Underneath, carved into the wall in what looks like pure sunshine itself, is the crest of light.

"What in the world . . . ." Jyou breathes, echoing all of their sentiments.

As they watch, something even more extraordinary happens. Slowly, slowly, the light begins to spread across the entire wall until it's awash in bright yellow. The nine of them shield their eyes and squint, stepping back.

"Look," whispers Tailmon in wonderment. Shining through with more intensity than the rest of the wall is the crest of light, and surrounding it are more crests.

"There's one for every one of us," says Hikari softly. And she's right. The crests of hope and kindness are there next to hers, and there are two of every other crest.

Miyako reaches out and presses her hand lightly where the twin crests of love and purity meet. They glow more intensely for a moment and then fade.

"I think it's a door," she says, unusually quiet. "I think if you depress all of these symbols at the same time it'll open."

Jyou frowns and very carefully touches Mimi's crest of purity, but nothing happens. "If that's the case, we'll need everyone here to open it."

"That sounds like a trap," Gomamon says darkly.

Taichi is liking this less and less every minute. "With Gabumon as bait."

"Why Gabumon?" Hawkmon asks after a slight pause.

"He may have been the only one of us in the Digiworld at the time," says Tentomon. "It doesn't really matter who they used. Any one of us could easily have been the bait."

"But why? Why do they want us here?" Miyako asks uneasily.

"To get us out of the way," Jyou replies, his mouth set in a grim line. "Of course."

"So what are we going to do?" Gomamon asks the obvious question.

"We're going to set off the trap," Taichi says, and they know from his tone there's no use arguing.

* * *

Yamato stares at his face in the mirror. His eyes are still noticeably red, but other than that the signs of his breakdown have faded. He sighs, half out of relief and half out of frustration with his own weakness. Still, he feels a little bit better now that he's cried some of those feelings out. 

And he's all the more convinced he made the right choice in leaving Odaiba. He has several years worth of emotions to work through and that certainly hadn't been getting done there.

Yamato smiles grimly at his reflection. As he's turning to leave the bathroom, a knock comes at the door.

Assuming it's a neighbor, Yamato makes his way to the door unconcernedly.

He opens it to find Takeru glaring stonily at him.

"Umm," he says intelligently,"hi."

Apparently that's all it takes to set Takeru off.

"_What in the world were you thinking?!_" Takeru yells in a manner most uncharacteristic of him. Yamato takes a step back, surprised and a little afraid.

"Takeru - "

"How could you possibly leave like that without telling anyone where you went?" his brother continues, his face red and contorted in anger. "Did you even think about what that would do to your family?"

Yamato just stares at him. Takeru plows on, unconcerned, "Dad is out of his mind, you know, and Mom's crying, and Grandpère's been using that really quiet voice again, the one he used after Grandma died, and it's all because you didn't care enough to tell us anything!"

"That's not true, I - "

"And to top it off,_ you turned off your digivice!_ You turned off your digivice, and then all this stuff in the Digiworld, and you should have _seen_ Taichi, pacing back and forth like that, he was _scary_, and Gabumon's gone, and no one knows what's going on, and you had to go and run off just because you felt sorry for yourself - "

"Gabumon's gone?" Yamato says, his voice low.

Takeru stops.

"Yeah," he says.

Yamato clenches his hands into fists unconsciously. "Oh god," he says.

"Yeah," says Takeru again. Then he pulls Yamato into a swift one-armed hug. "Listen," he says, "I was_ worried_ about you, you stupid sod."

Yamato's eyes begin to water dangerously again as he hugs his brother back. "Takeru, I'm sorry - "

"I know," Takeru says gruffly, pulling back. "Now let's go sort out this Digiworld nonsense."

* * *

Author's note: I'm not going to translate the French, since it's in Sora's point of view and she doesn't understand it either and you can get the basic idea from the context. If you reaaaaally want a translation, just let me know. 


	7. Mined

Author's note: I know, I know, I'm a terrible person and haven't updated in two days. Sadly, I have no excuse whatsoever. It's finals week?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially to Jade Starr, who reviewed four times in one day and made my email inbox overflow with happiness.

Enjoy the chapter! I think this is my least favorite one, personally, but hopefully you all will think otherwise.

* * *

"We're walking into a trap?" Sora says flatly. She and the others are gathered in Koushiro's apartment again, waiting for Takeru, Ken and Daisuke to return with Yamato. 

"What else are we supposed to do?" says Miyako, looking grumpy. "There wasn't a single digimon in the entire place. The only thing we've got to go on is Gabumon's scent."

"Yeah, and I'm sure whoever set the trap made sure to make it that way," Sora returns.

"Do you have a suggestion, Sora?" Taichi asks, looking exasperated.

"No," she admits. "I just don't like this. It's too neat."

Taichi nods. "It is. But we're going in anyway."

An almost contemplative silence falls over the group, broken only by the constant tap of Koushiro's fingers on his keyboard.

"It's never this quiet when Daisuke's here," Tailmon points out, and the others laugh good-naturedly. This seems to break the mood, and everyone falls to chatting among themselves.

Sora studies Taichi quietly. His face is set in the same expression of determination and courage as it always was, back during that first trip to the Digiworld, but there's a strain there, so slight that you wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking, and he's holding himself with far more tension than his loose body usually holds. So she steps closer to him and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Taichi turns and flashes her a quick smile, but it's not quite genuine. Sora gives him one of her own small sad ones in return. It's not that Taichi can't hide his emotions, but if you know what you're looking for he's easier to read than a picture book.

"Okay," says Koushiro suddenly. The entire room shifts to look at him. "This may sound obvious, but what we need to do is try to determine the source of this digimon's power."

"I thought electricity was the source of its power?" says Tentomon, confused.

"Well, yes. What I mean is, we need to determine what exactly is absorbing that electricity into the digital world. If we can destroy that, our enemy will be greatly weakened."

"How do we find it?" Hikari asks.

"I can track it with my computer," Koushiro replies, 'but it will take a while."

"We'll probably find it inadvertently anyway when we set off this stupid trap," says Jyou. Everyone looks at him for clarification, and Jyou makes a face. "What? It's true! Evil digimon aren't very subtle, you know. There's probably some giant evil-looking central base where the power is housed and where this new digimon is, and I'll bet you anything that's where he's keeping Gabumon."

Sora blinks. It's a good point.

"Oh, it's automatically a he, is it," Mimi says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, but even her smile is strained.

Just then the door opens and Daisuke flies in, dragging a reluctant-looking Ken behind him. Veemon and Wormmon enter in similar fashion. Yamato himself follows, very carefully not looking at anyone. Sora feels Taichi stiffen next to her and she squeezes his shoulder with the hand that's still resting there. Patamon flaps in and Takeru comes last, gently closing the door behind him.

"We're here!" Daisuke exclaims, striking a pose in typical Daisuke fashion. "Did you miss us?"

"Not you, we didn't," Miyako replies as she goes to stand beside Ken. But she ruffles Daisuke's hair as she passes, revealing an easy affection.

"Hey!" Daisuke protests, trying to get his spikes back into place. "You messed it up!"

"How is it even possible to mess up that - that _mess_?" Mimi asks, wrinkling up her nose at Daisuke's hairstyle, or lack thereof. Palmon giggles and Sora hides a smile behind her hand.

"Hi, Yamato," says Taichi, very quietly. The entire room tenses, looking at Yamato expectantly. Agumon takes a step closer to his partner, almost protectively.

Yamato lifts his head and looks straight at Taichi. Then his eyes fall onto Sora's hand, still resting on Taichi's shoulder, and he looks away again, his face more angry than hurt, his arms crossed. Takeru scowls in Taichi and Sora's direction, every inch the overprotective younger brother.

Sora starts to lift her hand away guiltily, but Taichi frowns at her. "Leave it," he says in an undertone.

"Okay, now that we're all finally here," he says, facing the group. Sora winces. That last comment is barbed, obviously directed at Yamato.

She glances over at Yamato to gauge his reaction. His face is pale, but he's glaring at Taichi with vigor.

Boys are stupid, she thinks, exasperated. What a mess this is.

"Let's get this over with," Taichi continues, throwing one nasty, annoyed look at Yamato before pulling out his digivice.

In the Digiworld, everyone recollects themselves nervously.

"The castle's over here," says Tailmon, pointing to the east. She and Hawkmon lead the way, Taichi and Agumon close behind. It's a quiet expedition, to be sure, everyone just following wordlessly.

Sora pauses. Piyomon runs into the back of her legs. "Watch where you're going!" her digimon admonishes.

"Sorry," she says, still thinking. Behind her, Jyou and Mimi are having a whispered yet upbeat conversation.

"Just like old times, huh?" Sora can hear Jyou's smile in his voice.

"Yep," Mimi responds cheerfully. "Taichi and Yamato are even fighting again!"

After a pause, she adds, "And my feet hurt." The two laugh good-naturedly, and Sora smiles along with them.

After another moment's thought, she doubles back to talk to Yamato, who is bringing up the rear with Takeru and Patamon.

"Yamato," she says quietly.

"Go away," he says immediately, his eyes boring harshly into her own.

"Yamato, I - "

"Go. Away."

"No, I won't. I - "

"I don't want to hear it. Now get lost."

Sora sighs and jogs back up to her spot in line reluctantly. Things are worse than she'd thought.

They climb over a grassy knoll and suddenly, there it is.

The castle is huge. It looks as if it was made for something much larger than humans. Sora imagines it's almost as big as the castle in the sky from the Jack and the Beanstalk story.

"That must be one giant digimon," says Iori from behind her, echoing her thoughts.

They stare in wordless wonder and apprehension for a minute longer before making their way across the castle's drawbridge.

"The drawbridge and moat . . . " mutters Gomamon. Sora barely hears him.

"What about them?" Jyou asks his digimon softly.

"They weren't here earlier," Gomamon replies.

In front of Sora, Koushiro turns around with interest. "You're saying the castle is still being added to?"

"Yep," Miyako adds in, "when we were here before, there were stones hoisting themselves to the top."

"Interesting," Koushiro says. "Hoisting themselves?"

"We didn't tell you?" says Jyou, looking abashed.

"They were floating," Hawkmon explains.

"That partially explains why all this energy is needed," Koushiro mutters. "To build this castle. But who and why still remains to be seen."

"And how," Tentomon adds helpfully.

Taichi opens the giant double doors and ushers them all in. Sora notices that his eyes linger on Yamato for a minute before he turns away huffily.

"This way," calls Agumon, his giant nose already sniffing away.

They make their way down corridor after long dusty corridor until they reach a plain-looking wall.

"This is it," Agumon says.

Everyone stares skeptically at him.

Hikari steps to the front of the group and presses one stone with the palm of her hand. Sora watches as a normal stone wall is transformed into the glowing door that the others had described.

"Everyone, find your crests," Taichi instructs. They fall into place, Sora, ironically enough, standing between Yamato and Taichi. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

The crests burst into vibrant life, so bright that they are all forced to stand back and shield their eyes from the glare. When they turn back, the wall is gone.

"Gabumon!" shouts Yamato, running into the newly exposed room. It's the first thing he's said so far.

Sora stares. The room is an enormous chamber, the ceiling so far over their heads it's almost out of sight. Beams of sunlight stream in from high windows, but the main source of light comes from within the room. The walls are entirely covered with symbols and all of them are awash in the same yellow glow as the crests were.

In the very center of the room, Gabumon is crumpled on the floor, unconscious. Yamato is already beside him, gathering his partner in his arms gently, sorrowfully.

"Gabumon," he's muttering, "wake up, buddy. Gabumon. Gabumon."

"Koushiro, what's written on the walls?" Taichi asks in his most businesslike tone as Jyou steps determinedly up to Yamato and Gabumon, his face falling into its professional-looking doctor expression.

"I don't know," Koushiro replies. "Some of it's kanji - see over there, that's the symbol for change, and over there's transport."

"They're mostly verbs," Ken observes, turning to look at each wall. "But what are the rest of these symbols?"

"That's Greek," says Takeru suddenly, pointing at a spot high above them on the opposite wall. "There's alpha, and there's lambda, and there's a couple in between I can't remember."

"How do you know Greek, Takeru?" Daisuke asks, looking vaguely threatened by Takeru's superior knowledge of languages.

"We're reading the Odyssey in literature," Takeru replies absently, still gazing around the room, transfixed.

"Those are hieroglyphs," Tailmon says, pointing.

"There's Arabic over here!" Miyako shouts from one side of the room.

"This looks like Celtic!" Iori cries from the other.

"This is Tengwar," says Mimi matter-of-factly. Everyone looks at her oddly. "You know, the Elvish language. From _Lord of the Rings_."

There's a brief, disbelieving silence.

"What?" says Mimi blankly.

Sora shakes her head and returns to staring at the wall.

"Hey, this is binary code!" says Koushiro disbelievingly.

"A lot of it is in our own digital script," says Tentomon. "For example, this reads 'digivolve.""

"What's it all for?" wonders Armadillomon.

"The fact that they're giving off this light energy seems to imply that this is the destination of the energy that has been redirected from our world," Koushiro says, "but as to what their function is, I don't know."

"Is it possible that their purpose is benevolent?" Hikari asks after a moment.

"If they were benevolent, why would Gabumon have been kidnapped?" Takeru replies.

"Good point," Hikari acknowledges.

Sora glances over at Yamato, Jyou and Gabumon. Yamato's still got Gabumon in his lap, and Jyou seems to be checking him for vital signs.

"Hey, this one says explode!" says Piyomon worriedly. Sora's head whips back around. Piyomon is pointing to a symbol written in Digiglyphs near the door.

"This is in romanji," Mimi says, kneeling down besides Piyomon and pointing to a phrase next to the symbol. "But it's not English."

Sora peers at it carefully. "I think it's French," she says.

Takeru makes his way over. "Ce qui est le plus proche à cette porte," he reads. "That which is closest to this door."

"Explode - " says Ken thoughtfully. "Combined with 'that which is closest to the door.'"

"You don't think - " Miyako says, eyes wide.

"Does anyone know what these are?" says Ken, pointing to a pair of brackets that flank the combination.

"It looks like a set," says Koushiro gravely. "An algebraic set."

Ken nods. "That's what I thought."

"Anyone care to explain what in hell you're talking about?" Taichi snaps. looking more irritable than ever.

"Everyone, stand back," says Ken darkly.

"Ken, you're going to set it on yourself!" Miyako wails.

Ken ignores her. "Anyone have something they can spare to lose on them?"

Sora looks down at herself, frowning, but before she can find anything Hikari pulls a light pink handkerchief from her pocket. "Here you go, Ken."

"Thanks," he says. He then places it a small distance from the door, walks calmly over to the explode symbol, and presses his hand against it.

_Boom! _

Ken dives out of the way just as Hikari's handkerchief explodes into a million pieces. Everyone watches in horror as its tiny ashes flutter back down to the ground and settle on the stone floor peacefully.

"It's like some _weird _digital land mine," breathes Taichi incredulously. The ensuing silence is one of agreement rather than dissent, and in the quiet of the room, everyone's minds settle on that phrase for the strange, curse-like designs adorning the walls.

"Mines," says Takeru, nodding shortly as if to confirm Taichi's assessment.

Koushiro has his computer out again. "Prodigious," he says, "a small surge of electricity disappeared from Europe right when the explosion occurred."

"This," says Ken slowly, turning back to take in the full glory of the glowing walls surrounding them, "this is amazing. You could do anything with this, to anyone."

"What do you mean?" says Wormmon, eyeing his partner nervously, obviously remembering Ken's days as the Digimon Kaiser.

"All you'd need is a name, or a symbol like the crests, and you'd be able to target them," Ken says. "It's simple, it's brilliant, and it's foolproof."

"If that's true, then why'd whoever it is have to kidnap Gabumon to get us here?" says Miyako.

"In my estimation," Koushiro starts, "these mines only work in the digital world, where their power can be converted from electricity to data - " he gestures to the mines themselves " - and from data into other forms of energy, such as that explosion."

"So they'd need bait to get us to the digital world in the first place," Iori reasons.

"Right," says Koushiro.

"So whoever it is will probably be back soon. To set off one that will kill us," says Takeru grimly.

"We'll just have to destroy it before that happens," Daisuke says, that determined, headstrong look that is so characteristic of him settling squarely on his face.

"Look!" says Palmon, pointing a vine where the explode sign had been. "It's gone!"

It's true. There's a blank spot on the wall instead of the old mine.

"So setting it off deactivates it as well," Tentomon concludes.

"There has to be another way to destroy them," says Ken speculatively.

"Why not just set them off and get it over with?" says Taichi impatiently, breaking his huffy silence and heading towards a mine made up of a set of symbols that look like Celtic knots.

"Taichi, no!" says Hikari, leaping up and grabbing her brother around his torso, effectively halting him.

"And why not?" he says, struggling half-heartedly. He's completely irrational at this point, Sora thinks, and her heart just melts for her poor friend, consumed by helplessness and anger and confusion and _hurt_.

"You can't set it off if you don't know what it means," Sora says quietly, hoping he'll see logic again.

Ken nods. "I've actually been trying to work out this one. It's rather complicated, but it basically causes slow and painful death to all the loved ones of whoever sets it off."

Taichi pales. "Oh god," he says. His eyes flick towards Yamato, so quickly it's almost imperceptible, and then he looks down at Hikari's pale hands encircling his waist.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"It's fine," says Hikari. "Now we know better."

"Have you managed to work any more out?" Koushiro asks Ken.

He nods. "Yeah. There's one that's particularly disturbing."

They follow him to one wall where a complicated set of signs in a large number of languages is enclosed in brackets as tall as Iori.

"There are quite a few that start with this symbol," Ken explains, pointing. It's not a language that Sora even vaguely recognizes. "It basically means'if.' They act as protective clauses."

"What's it do?" Daisuke's voice.

"If anyone destroys more than five other mines, this one reactivates all of the ones that have been destroyed - and creates new ones."

"It _makes more_?" Takeru says incredulously.

"How many more?" Sora feels inclined to ask.

Ken swallows nervously. "A hundred."

Silence.

"_Fuck,_" says Taichi vehemently. Sora gives him a disapproving look.

"I guess we'd better not set that one off," says Mimi, somewhat redundantly.

"It's more than that," says Koushiro, looking daunted. "We're going to have to destroy these one by one. In the right order."

The silence that greets his words is immense, but it's interrupted by Yamato's slightly hysterical voice behind them.

"Gabumon! Are you alright? Oh, man, Gabumon, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I was late, I'm sorry I left you here, I'm sorry I turned off my digivice, I'm sorry I thought I could just abandon you - "

They turn to see that Gabumon is once again sitting upright, Yamato kneeling in front of him and holding both of his furry blue-and-white paws in his hands and Jyou standing triumphantly over the two with the proud look of a doctor who's succeeded in his work.

"Don't be silly, Yamato," chuckles Gabumon. "It's not your fault I was captured. It's just bad luck, is all."

"Bad timing is more like it," says Gomamon from behind Jyou. "If any of us other digimon had been in the digital world, it could have been us."

"Exactly," says Gabumon, shooting a grateful look at Gomamon.

"Gabumon," says Taichi seriously. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?"

Nobody misses the death glare that Yamato shoots Taichi, but most of them miss the hurt expression that briefly crosses Taichi's face before he returns the look. Looking around, Sora guesses that she, Agumon, Gabumon, Hikari, and of course Tailmon, that oddly observant little digimon, are the only ones to have noticed. Well, it's possible Piyomon knows by now too.

"To be honest, Taichi, there's not much to tell," Gabumon says with remorse. "I first became aware that there was something wrong when a couple of Monochromon attacked me. I tried to reason with them, but all I could get out of them was that they were working for someone, and that I was to be captured. At that point, I knew that they were too powerful for me to fight on my own, so I starting trying to contact Yamato. When that didn't work, I figured the most likely person to respond would be Koushiro. I managed to send him a message before I was knocked out, and I've been in and out of consciousness ever since."

"Why didn't you revert to your in-training stage?" Tentomon asks. "To save energy?"

"I really don't know," says Gabumon. "For some reason, I couldn't."

"I'll bet you anything we'll find something about it in one of these stupid mines," says Mimi bitterly.

"That's a good point," says Koushiro speculatively. "I suppose that would be the most efficient way to keep Gabumon in his rookie form."

"But why?" says Yamato quietly.

Sora realizes with a start that this is the first time today Yamato has shown any interest in participating in this event. Looking behind her, she sees that Takeru looks about as surprised as she feels. It's a good sign, she decides.

"There are two potential reasons." Koushiro states. "The first is that Gabumon's scent is easier to detect in his rookie form. The second, more likely reason is that there are blocks to keep all of our digimon from digivolving."

"This just keeps getting better and better," Taichi mutters.

A short silence, like a sudden blast of air, follows as the severity of the situation descends rapidly upon them.

"Okay, now what?" says Mimi.

"Everyone, I need you to find sets that start with if," says Ken in the tone of voice usually reserved for leaders like Taichi or Daisuke, "and anyone who can read digiglyphs, I want you to look for anything relating to digivolving."

"But what happens when we find them?" says Iori logically. "We don't know how to destroy them without setting them off."

"I've actually been thinking about that," Hikari says thoughtfully. "Can't we just make our own mines?"

"What?" says Miyako.

"Why?" says Tailmon.

"Make one that deletes another one," Hikari answers calmly.

Silence.

"That's absolutely brilliant, Hikari," Ken breathes finally. Hikari beams and Miyako shoots her a murderous glare. "Of course it's possible to use whatever it is that's powering these to power something of our _own_ design."

He falls silent again, his face set in a look of intense concentration.

"All right," he says after a moment. "We still need to destroy them one at a time. Everyone, look for this_ if_ clause. If you find any, tell me right away."

Everyone defers their gaze to Taichi, who is, after all, officially the leader, seemingly seeking his approval of the plan. He glares at them all balefully. "Well, what are you waiting for? Start looking!"

"Hawkmon, Patamon, Tentomon, come on!" says Piyomon, nodding at Taichi. "We'd better fly up and take a look at the parts of the wall the others can't see."

With that, the group breaks apart. Sora is on her own, since Piyomon's somewhere overhead. She walks from mine to mine slowly, calling for Ken whenever she sees the complicated if symbol. Then Ken translates it and, if necessary, deletes it by having Wormmon carve a name onto the dangerous mine so it can be identified in the new one and then write a simple delete function on an empty patch of wall.

Activating their own mines, however, proves to be a little trickier than any of them had originally thought. Eventually Koushiro, after performing a chemical analysis of the original mines, works out that they are powered with the bio-energy of the digimon themselves, and Agumon fires a Pepper Breath at a function, causing it to start glowing the same bright orange as Agumon's breath.

Sora pauses to frown at a strange mine written in some language that she doesn't recognize. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump.

"Sora," says Taichi's voice, hoarse and desperate.

Turning, she takes one look at him and flings her arms around him. Yamato's going to take this the wrong way, she knows, but the look on Taichi's face is too much for her to bear.

"Oh, Taichi," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."

They stay like that for a moment. Then Sora pulls away and slaps Taichi across the cheek. It's what Yamato would do in my place, she reasons. Except he'd probably punch Taichi. Slapping is for girls. "Now pull yourself together. We _need_ you."

Taichi places one hand against his cheek, then nods. "You're right."

Sora smiles. "That's the Taichi I know."

They turn back to the wall and resume inspecting the mines.

"Wait a minute," Taichi mutters to himself, and then, "Ken!"

Ken runs over. "What is it?"

"Could you write a set that would delete all the sets that can be deleted without setting off other ones? Or a set that deletes all sets with the if symbol in them?"

Ken frowns. "That's a good idea, Taichi, but I'm not sure. Give me a minute to think about how I could word it."

"What about a set that works like the find function on a computer?" Miyako suggests. "To find all the sets with_ if_ in it, or _digivolve_, or whatever?"

Ken nods. "That will work. Will you do it, Miyako?"

Miyako's grin is enormous. "Yes!" she shouts, pumping her fist into the air. Sora laughs at the other girl's antics. She's glad that particular romantic tension has been decimated.

Hawkmon descends from the ceiling and Miyako begins showing him what symbols to write. As soon as Hawkmon finishes carving the set into the wall with his beak, Miyako steps forwards and activates it.

Suddenly the room is cast in a warm pink glow. Looking around, Sora sees that a good number of the mines are now emitting pink light, and a few are even purple.

"The pink ones are the ones with _if,_" Miyako explains. "The purple are the ones with _digivolve_."

"Did you have to pick such girly colors?" Daisuke grumbles.

"We've deleted eight mines so far," Ken says. "If any of these are set to go off after ten others have been deleted, we'll need to delete them first." He starts reading the pink sets, Miyako hovering comfortably nearby.

Meanwhile, Koushiro is busy carving a mine of his own into the wall.

"What are you doing?" says Jyou curiously, meandering over from where Yamato and Gabumon are still situated in the center of the room, Yamato's eye trained loyally on his digimon as if afraid he'll disappear from right in front of him.

"This is the kanji symbol for reveal," Koushiro explains. "It's possible that there are some mines that are being hidden by others."

Daisuke nods. "Good thinking. We might end up setting off a really bad one otherwise."

When Koushiro activates it, a web of light slowly splays itself across the floor.

"Oh dear," says Jyou worriedly. "That's not good."

"I hope we haven't been setting any off by stepping on them," Sora says, looking nervously at the ground around her feet.

"There's more up here too!" cries Patamon. They look up to see him hovering near the ceiling, also aglow now.

"Miyako's set seems to be working on these ones as well," Koushiro says, pointing to a large purple area far above their heads.

"Can you read that one, Patamon?" Takeru yells up to his digimon.

"No!" he replies. "All I can read is 'digivolve' and 'digidestined.'"

The silence seems to speak. What it says is, "hmm..." in a speculative tone.

It's interrupted by Koushiro, of all people.

"Yes!" he says, jumping around excitedly in a manner more befitting of a small child than a reserved computer analyst. Everyone stares, understandably surprised.

"That's got to be the one that's stopping our digimon from digivolving! What else could it be?"

The next silence is one of awe and sudden realization.

"Go label it, Hawkmon!" Miyako cries, pointing dramatically upward.

"You got it!" the bird digimon obeys, flying straight up.

But as he goes, a thin shadow falls across the room, enshrining them all in feathery gray fog.

"Welcome to my lair," says an ominous voice, "you must be the digidestined."

* * *

Author's note: Okay, so there's a line in here that says Yamato's eyes are "boring harshly" into Sora's, and that always makes me think of when I worked at this architecture office, and they'd have to bore into the soil and test it and make sure it could support structures, and the resultant reports were always labeled 'Boring Reports.' Amazing. 


	8. Our Heart Beats

Author's note: Thanks once again for all of the wonderful reviews!

Here's the next chapter. It's a bit short, but important anyway. Only four left after this one! My goodness is this story moving fast. Enjoy!

* * *

"It's about time you showed up, whoever you are!" says Daisuke loudly as they all turn to face the voice. Standing in the doorway is a tall grey digimon encased in white-and-gold armor and with large, tattered-looking purple wings protruding from his back. Taichi runs forward and joins Daisuke at the head of the group, scowling at the intruder. He really hates these villain types.

"I am Dynasmon," the digimon says, his voice echoing enormously. "And I am here to destroy you."

"Oh my god, how predictable," Jyou sighs from somewhere behind him.

"Hawkmon, _hurry up_!" Miyako yells urgently. When Taichi glances at her, he sees she's standing beside Ken, who is scratching out a delete symbol on the wall.

"Boom bubble! Pah!" says Patamon. As the digimon of the bearer of hope, he's almost always the first to attack in his rookie form. The others join in, but predictably Dynasmon brushes off the colorful flurry of tiny attacks easily.

Koushiro is typing away on his laptop hurriedly. "Dynasmon is a mega-level digimon," he reads out loud, "Apart from his tremendous physical strength, he also has an amazing defense, and can fly at great speeds. It is rumored that he can control the many powers of light."

"I would say that rumor is true," says Sora dryly, gesturing to the walls.

"So, Dynasmon, is it?" Taichi shouts, hoping he can stall the digimon and maybe even get some information out of it. "What the hell are you trying to do here anyway?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, foolish child?" Dynasmon laughs, causing Taichi's scowl to deepen. He is, after all, no child these days. "I'm harnessing the power of your world and using it to control mine! And soon, your world will be devoid of power, and I will rule over them both!"

"And that doesn't sound familiar at all," Tailmon says in her bitingly caustic way.

"What, you're going to start an energy corporation and take over Wall Street?" says Jyou, only half-joking.

"These bad guys are all the same," says Agumon from Taichi's side. "No imagination."

Taichi looks at them all and can't help a small grin. They're experts at this, at the tug-of-war game that is baiting an enemy and yet holding them off until they can deliver that final blow. Even these seemingly meaningless, petty comments are a part of this.

"Miyako, go!" says Hawkmon from above, rapidly descending. As Dynasmon turns to look at Miyako, Hawkmon shouts, "Feather Slash!" The attack does little, but it does serve as a distraction and Dynasmon turns his back on Ken and Miyako, not noticing them carving into the wall.

"Hawkmon, what did you label it?" Ken shouts desperately.

"The digiglyph for victory!" Hawkmon shouts back, catching his feather and then throwing it right back at Dynasmon. Taichi snorts at the name.

Ken quickly carves the symbol and activates the new set. It glows briefly.

Taichi looks up to see the large purple area overhead blink out of existence.

"Great!" he says. "Now, everyone listen. All of you need to work on getting rid of these damn things. Yamato and I will fight Dynasmon."

The others nod.

"No." says Yamato.

"What?"

"I won't fight with you," says Yamato shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. Taichi feels one thing at this: burning, irrational anger. Can't the stupid idiot see that this is what has to be done?

"I won't protest that," Dynasmon rumbles. "Dragon Thrower!"

The attack comes straight for Yamato, and Taichi pushes him out of the way.

"Taichi!" Agumon yells, warp-digivolving and countering the attack.

"Everyone, _get to work!_" Taichi yells over his shoulder. He doesn't look back until he's satisfied the others have stopped their rubber-necking. He then turns back to Yamato and grabs him by the shoulders. "Listen, we've got to jogress. Dynasmon is a mega!"

"So what?" says Yamato bitterly, struggling against Taichi's grip. "We're not the only ones who can jogress."

"Yeah, but Omegamon's the strongest!"

"Yamato, please," Gabumon pleads.

"I can't hold him back much longer," growls Metalgreymon.

Yamato glances down at his digimon, then back up at Taichi. He scowls. "Fine then. But I don't have to like it."

"Who said anything about you liking it," mutters Taichi, but Yamato's words sting.

"Gabumon?" says Yamato, ignoring Taichi. His partner nods, then warp-digivolves.

"Taichi!" says Koushiro from behind him. Taichi turns his head.

"What?"

"I'm going to use a carving to power the jogress! It should make your attacks stronger!"

"Hurry!" Taichi replies.

"It's almost done. I just have to activate it," Koushiro answers.

"Well, stop talking and activate it!" Taichi shouts.

Koushiro does.

A shining light envelops Taichi and Yamato and their digimon and Taichi relishes the familiar feeling of warmth that fills him as the two digimon jogress.

But when the light dissipates, Taichi realizes that something is off. He can feel - _he can feel Yamato's heartbeat. _It thunders against his own chest frantically, like an animal trying to get out of a cage.

How strange.

Wait - hadn't Daisuke said something about that?

Taichi struggles to remember.

_"And I could feel Ken's heart beating along with mine! It was totally awesome!" _Daisuke's enthusiastic voice rings in his head.

And Hikari had said something about feeling the same phenomenon when Tailmon and Halsemon jogressed.

But . . . why hadn't Taichi felt it before?

Why now?

Distantly, he hears Omegamon's voice shouting, "Transcendent Sword!" But it doesn't seem important.

He thinks back to the fight with Diablomon, and suddenly it clicks.

Their hearts had been in sync.

Of course.

And now . . . and now. And now they're in the worst fight they've ever been in, a fight that Taichi doesn't even completely understand the full of, and Yamato won't even look at him properly, and Taichi's emotions are more muddled than ever, and he's angry and he's lonely and miserable and their hearts are out of sync for the first time ever and _he knows two things for sure._

"Taichi!" comes a voice from far away. It sounds like Koromon. "Taichi, it's over! Snap out of it!"

He knows, more certainly than anything he's ever known, that he loves this crazy, stupid, stubborn boy, despite it all.

And he knows that, more than anything, he really, _really _wants to cry.

So he does.

* * *

To say the least, they're all a little surprised when Taichi, their great and glorious leader, doesn't snap out of his reverie and flash them his cheeky smile like they all expect him to, but bursts into tears.

"Taichi?" says Koromon worriedly, bouncing up and down next to his partner. "Taichi, are you all right? Taichi, what's wrong?"

Taichi's sobs are terrifying. They're loud, harsh, desperate, uneven, ragged, hysterical cries of pain, like something has ripped out his insides and left him bleeding and dying on the ground. Like a mortally wounded animal. It's something Mimi would expect from a disintegrating evil digimon, but not from someone like Taichi. She's never seen him cry before, and it's an enormously unsettling thing.

"What do you think happened to him?" she asks Sora nervously. Sora's staring at Taichi with a very worried look on her face, and she doesn't answer Mimi's question.

"Do you think they set something off when they killed Dynasmon?" Jyou says from her other side. Mimi frowns. That would make a lot of sense, wouldn't it? But what exactly could they have set off to cause Taichi to react like this?

"No, they didn't," Koushiro replies. "We made sure that nothing like that would happen while those two were fighting. Besides, all the mines were already gone when Dynasmon was destroyed."

"Then what is it?" says Tentomon, completely confused.

"Excuse me," says Yamato coldly from behind them. After they've all turned to look at him, he says quite calmly, "If you no longer need me, I'll be going now."

"Don't you dare!" Hikari snaps, quite unexpectedly. Mimi glances at the normally collected girl and notices her stance, stiffly defensive, like someone expecting a blow to the stomach. She's trying to protect Taichi, Mimi realizes, and resists the urge to start crying herself. This is not how things are supposed to be.

"Why not?" Yamato challenges her.

"Why _not_?" Hikari says in a voice of deadly calm. "Because my brother is crying on the floor, that's why not. What kind of friend would you be if you just left like that?"

"I'm not his _friend_," Yamato spits out.

Mimi gasps in shock and shakes her head in wonder. Even though Yamato is infamous in Japan for his good looks, Mimi can't help but think he looks very ugly at this moment, his face contorted in rage.

Yamato turns and begins to walk away again, pausing only slightly when Takeru calls after him.

"I'm going with him," Tsunomon tells the rest apologetically. "I'm sorry for his behavior."

Koushiro nods. "Make sure he doesn't turn off his digivice again. I'll be along in a few days to set him up with a computer so you can get to and from the digital world."

"Thank you very much," Tsunomon says, bowing his head slightly and turning and bouncing after Yamato. "Yamato, wait!"

Hikari shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Takeru, but sometimes I just can't stand your brother."

"Me neither," Mimi jumps in without thinking.

Takeru sighs. "He's just upset."

"Yeah, mentally upset," Mimi can't help but add.

"Mimi!" Sora admonishes, but Mimi can see a hint of a smile.

"Okay, everyone," says Hikari, "I'm going to take care of Taichi. You guys head on back."

Daisuke nods. "We'll wait for you at Koushiro's apartment."

Hikari shakes her head. "It's okay. You all go home."

Daisuke looks like he's going to protest, but the look on Hikari's face seems to convince him otherwise, so that an exaggerated look of dejection settles across his face. It becomes even more exacerbated when Takeru leans over and kisses Hikari on the cheek.

"Good luck," he whispers in her ear.

What makes this scene so much different from the ones she'd witnessed when she'd first met Daisuke, Mimi reflects, is that Daisuke's disappointment fades quickly, so that the next moment he's exchanging childish insults with Miyako as if nothing's happened, as if - as if his continuing infatuation with Hikari is now more out of habit than any truly romantic feelings. A strange development, but nonetheless an improvement, Mimi decides. She remembers how bull-headed and angry he had been when the pair had announced their engagement.

"All right, let's get out of here," says Takeru finally, throwing one last smiling look at Hikari before turning to Koushiro expectantly.

Koushiro has luckily left a computer with an open digiport on at his place, so he leads them out of the castle, opens another gate from his laptop, and then they're back in the real world just like that.

"Oh, Mimi," says Koushiro. "I forgot we have to send you back to New York from the Digiworld. I'll open another gate."

"Thanks, Koushiro, but I'm not quite ready yet," says Mimi, eyeing Sora and Jyou in turn. She's not leaving until she knows exactly what was going on with Taichi back there, and she's got a gut feeling that Sora's the one to ask. As for Jyou, she has yet to give him a_ proper _goodbye.


	9. Aftermath

Author's note: Well, three months later, another chapter at last. Enjoy.

Hikari waits until everyone has disappeared down the long stone corridor, until the last echoes of their footsteps have withered into the void, before turning and surveying her brother, lying on his side on the floor, curled into himself, his body shaking with violent sobs, the dusty stones under his face soaking up his briny tears with the speed of a cracked desert ground absorbing a drop of water.

Koromon has stopped bouncing and is staring motionlessly at Taichi, his normally round form drooping like a too-full water balloon, his eyes tragic, shining circles. If Taichi were faking, his expression would be quite comical, but as he's not Hikari can't bring herself to laugh. Tailmon, of course, stands next to Hikari, looking at Taichi with a concern that almost mirrors Hikari's own.

She hovers there awkwardly for one more moment before coming to a sudden decision.

She's going to get dirt in her hair, she thinks, sighing.

Then she carefully lowers herself to her hands and knees and crawls until she's a few feet from her distraught brother. She lies so that her body is parallel to his and settles in for a long stay.

She doesn't say anything, but she knows he's aware of her presence.

Over the course of hours Taichi's cries diminuendo slowly as Hikari inches closer and closer to him and their two digimon do the same. Soon, he's no longer wailing but sort of sniffling and gasping as tiny tracts of tears trek down his cheeks, and Hikari's close enough to reach out and run a comforting hand down his arm, to wipe the dried salt tracks off his face. Koromon settles his warm pink body in between them and Tailmon pads over to them, curls up by their heads, and wraps her striped tail around Taichi's wrist in a reassuring manner. They stay like that, a warm bundle of bodies, as the digital sun sets and sends a vibrant orange and pink glow crashing in through the windows above.

When Taichi finally speaks, just as Hikari had known he eventually would, it's dark except for the bright yellow embers of light still left on the walls, remnants of the mines that had been there earlier. They remind Hikari of fireflies, lighting a dancing white path through the black cover of night.

His voice is stronger than one might expect from someone who's been crying so hard, but Hikari knows her brother to be not only resilient but stubborn.

"He hates me," is all he says.

Hours without speaking, and this is all he can drudge up?

"No," says Hikari, matching his firmness with her own.

"_Yes_," says Taichi, and his voice is choked with another sob. "Yes."

Hikari frowns into Taichi's mop of brown hair. "No," she says again, but her voice wavers. Yamato had behaved as if he _did_ hate Taichi, today.

A moment of quiet passes between them.

"Hikari," says Taichi, quieter now.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what it feels like when you and Miyako jogress."

Hikari pauses in her caress of her brother's arm, considering. The question is unexpected, but not unreasonable.

"It's - strange," she starts. "You feel this sort of warmth, and this - this complete _understanding_ of the other person. Like you know exactly who they are, and what they want, and where they're coming from."

Taichi is silent for a moment. "So complete that you can feel their heart beat?"

Hikari smiles. She wouldn't have thought to put it that way. "Yeah, that's it exactly. It's as if you _become one_, just as the digimon are doing."

Taichi closes his eyes, as if in pain, and a taught silence stretches above them, waiting.

"What happened?" Hikari eventually says. "When you and Yamato jogressed today."

Taichi doesn't open his eyes as he answers her. "It's strange," he says, his voice far away, "but it never felt like that to me."

"The jogress?" Hikari prompts.

Taichi nods very slightly. "I heard you and Daisuke talk about the heartbeat thing, but I never felt it when me and Yamato jogressed. I assumed it was something to do with you being the new Digidestined."

"Hmm," says Hikari. "And today -"

"Today I felt Yamato's heart beat."

Taichi's eyes open, and Hikari wishes they hadn't. There's a hollowness there, a pain that she doesn't like seeing, if only because she knows there's nothing she can do to make it go away.

"Is that bad?" she says softly.

"Why do you think I couldn't feel it before?" Taichi answers. "Why now? Why when we're fighting?"

Hikari has no answer.

"Because he was fighting it," Taichi answers his own question with a heavy tone.

"I don't understand," says Hikari, unable to stop herself from scrunching up her nose in confusion. "Why would that make you jogress _better_?"

Taichi shakes his head. "No," he says, "you're right, it wouldn't."

He seems to be waiting for something, as if there's something she's not grasping here, as if he wants her to latch onto it on her own, without him further elucidating it.

"Then," she says, searching her mind frantically for a clue as to whatever it is he's hinting at, "you jogressed better before?"

Taichi nods, looking pleased.

Hikari has to think about this. Well, a better jogress would mean you were _more _one, so if Taichi hadn't been able to feel Yamato's heart beat before it must mean. . . .

"Were they synchronized?" she asks. "Your hearts, I mean."

"Yeah," says Taichi. He is quiet and wistful.

"Oh, _Taichi_," she says fiercely, and pulls him into her arms.

When he speaks again, his voice is muffled, as he's curled into her now, his face hidden beneath her shirt. "He's oblivious, and he's mean, and he's emotionally distant. He's cold. I _know_ that."

Looking at her brother from this angle, half his hair flattened against the floor, the other half expanding upward as if against gravity, Hikari is struck by how small he seems. It's a strange feeling, because for most of her life he has seemed so big, so much larger than life. His insane hair, his wide grin - even physically, Taichi has always seemed almost too much to be true.

He says he knows, and if anyone knows Yamato it's him, but Hikari can't help but wonder. If he knows, why does he keep getting hurt?

Maybe it's that demon called hope, that tiny gleam of _maybe_ that fuels even the most drab of lives to continue in their pointless routines.

"I know that," Taichi repeats in a tired manner. "It doesn't stop me from loving him."

"Of course it doesn't," Hikari replies, "nothing could stop_ you,_ Taichi."

She rolls up of all of her trust, admiration and love for him into that statement and presents it to him like a religious offering. It doesn't fix anything, but it's the best she has.

She can feel Taichi's slight smile through her shirt.

"It'll be okay," she says, and she really does mean it. Her hands run in circles over his back. "No matter what happened today, he'll get over it, and Takeru and I will go and talk to him, and I _promise_ you'll be friends again."

It comes out a little scrambled and confused, but it gets the point across and Taichi seems reassured all the same. He relaxes his taut body a little, anyway.

"I hope so," he says, and then he says it again in a way that gives it a dreadful sort of finality. "I hope so."

Nothing has really been said, but the conversation is still over, so the two them slowly rise to their feet and look around the room blearily, as if just waking up.

"It's dark," says Taichi, like he's registering for the first time that time has passed.

"Yes," says Hikari, studying her brother's face. His eyes are still red and puffy from crying, but the slight tension that's been there all day has lessened somewhat. He'll be okay, she thinks, relieved. He's going to be okay.

"Let's go back," she says, taking Taichi's hand firmly. It's reassuring to see that her own small hands are as lost in his grip as they've always been, almost as if she can pretend nothing has changed and she's eight years old still.

Tailmon rises onto her hind legs and picks up Koromon, whose big orange eyes are slipping shut, his mouth opening in a yawn that seems as big as he is. He doesn't quite fit into Tailmon's arms, so that she has to wrap them around him uncomfortably, looking like a toddler with a oversized beach ball. Even then, Tailmon's too short to see around the sleeping Koromon's large head, so she has to peek out from behind him, as if she's a child peering out from behind a tree.

Their progression through the corridors and out of the castle is slow and unsteady. Sometimes Taichi will have to stop and lean heavily against Hikari, his breathing once again uneven as he tries not to cry while Hikari simultaneously struggles not to stumble with the added load. Sometimes all light will disappear from their path and Hikari will have to activate her crest or even her cell phone in order to cast a tiny patch of computerized light onto the stone floor in front of them. Sometimes there are stairs that need to be attacked with quiet caution and even more lethargy than before. In any case, where it had taken them a mere ten minutes to reach the inner sanctum of the castle, it takes almost an hour to get back out again.

Outside, the digital world is bright with moon- and star-light. Koushiro has, of course, left the gate open, so they pause one last time in front of it, preparing for the return. Hikari gently turns her brother's face towards her own and looks him in the eye again.

"I want you to know," she says, more serious even than she usually is, "I love you a hell of a lot, and I will always be here for you."

"Me too," chimes in a sleepy Koromon, his pink ears lifting slightly.

"I know," says Taichi, and his sad smile is heartbreaking. "Thank you."

And with that, they make their way back to their own world.

They arrive on the other side in Koushiro's computer room, which has about five or six monitors set up and glowing brightly. Most are set to screen savers except for the one they've just fallen out of and one on the opposite side of the room, which Koushiro is sitting in front of, typing frantically away as usual.

"Ah," he says, looking up. "You're back."

Hikari smiles at Koushiro, who is of course as calmly, relentlessly rational as always, as he pushes his chair back and grabs something from the table.

"I've prepared you both drinks," he says briskly. Hikari focuses on what he's holding in his hands - a very full shot glass and a plastic cup of bubble tea - and smiles even wider. Koushiro's strange brand of thoughtfulness is very touching in its awkward way, and his expansive yet incomplete memory does nothing but aid this. She remembers about five years ago a conversation with Koushiro on the subject of tapioca teas, and it's sweet that he's remembered even if her tastes _have_ changed in the intermittent period.

"Thanks," she says, and Taichi nods before wordlessly gulping down whatever alcohol is in the glass. It must be strong, because it reeks.

Meanwhile, Koushiro hands tall glasses of water to both Tailmon and Koromon, who accept them gratefully. Koromon grasps the glass between his ears and practically throws the water into his overlarge mouth.

The tea is good, sliding its cool way down her throat, its taste familiar and yet not, and Hikari finds she has missed it somehow.

"Thank you," she says again, more serious this time, and Koushiro nods briefly, looking a bit embarrassed at the attention.

"Takeru has left your car," he says, changing the subject without even the slightest attempt at subtlety.

Hikari is not surprised. Takeru is, after all, nothing if not thoughtful, although she has a feeling he'll have a lot of questions for her when she gets back. This time she might actually have to answer them.

"Did you drive here?" she asks Taichi softly, squeezing his hand. If he has, it doesn't matter, because he's in no state to drive home - she doubts very much he's even capable of going home at all for a few days at least - and they'd just have to leave the car at Koushiro's for a while. So when Taichi shakes his head slightly it comes as nothing but a relief.

"I came with Sora," he says, his tone almost sorrowful. Hikari knows it's because of the particularly virulent glare that Yamato had given him when he'd spotted Sora's hand on Taichi's shoulder, and her eyes narrow at the memory. Once upon a time, she'd liked Yamato, even been close to him, but it's hard to now that all she can see is how much he's hurting her brother.

Koushiro shoots a glance in her direction, and she can see by its dark yet concerned intensity that he's thinking much along the same lines. He knows, then, what's going on, and Hikari's not surprised. Not only is his sharp mind excellent at puzzling things together, she's fairly sure that on the many occasions she's opened her door to find a drunken, broken Taichi leaning against the door frame, the car she'd seen pulling away from the apartment building had been Koushiro's. It is Koushiro who helps Taichi drink himself into oblivion, and it is Hikari who helps him up again. They are on the opposite ends of Taichi's comfort, then, and how strange it is that they are both here with him now.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

She asks even though she already knows the answer.

Taichi nods, a brief inclination of his head that, while slight, is an admission of total defeat.

Koushiro walks them to the door before encasing Taichi in a completely unexpected hug, saying only, "I'm sorry." Taichi looks momentarily shocked, then puts his arms awkwardly around the smaller boy. When they break apart, Koushiro smiles a tight, forced smile at Hikari and says, "Take good care of him."

As they walk out, Koushiro pulls her aside for one quick moment and whispers, "Sora and I will take care of Yamato." It's over so fast that Hikari has barely time to process his words before she's standing in front of a closed door, Tailmon impatiently by her side.

"Come _on_, Hikari," she urges.

How strange, she thinks as she directs them all to the car. Koushiro had been thoughtful and caring in a way she had never seen him behave before - in an almost protective way. Could it be possible that he - that he -

No.

But it is, she realizes. It's very possible.

Is Koushiro in love with her brother?

Takeru opens the door to their tiny two-bedroom apartment and silently ushers them in. His expression is concerned as he takes in Taichi's haggard, tired appearance and Koromon's sleeping form, and it grows even more so when his gaze lands on Hikari. Her face is tight and her body stiff, and her hair is somehow more limp, more lifeless. Her eyes are just tired. He wants to reach for her, but resists - the peculiar slant of her shoulders tells him that she has already taken up this burden as her own, and that she will accept no help for it. It is _her_ sacrifice. He has always been able to read her so very well.

They settle Taichi in the spare bedroom amidst Takeru's rejected manuscripts and Hikari's half-developed photographs. Takeru offers him a pair of pajamas but Taichi declines and crawls under the covers with his shoes still on. He falls asleep almost instantly, but his rest is uneasy; he flips from side to side, his eyes darting underneath his lowered lids, his hands wrapped almost desperately around Koromon's soft form. His mouth opens and closes constantly, fishlike, sometimes letting out a low whimper or a moan.

They stand over him for a minute, Hikari staring down in consternation, Takeru giving her much the same look. He reaches for her hand and entwines their fingers. They are like new parents looking over the edge of the cradle, helpless and unsure of themselves but nonetheless earnest, eager to try. Their digimon look on, just as helpless, Tailmon on tiptoe by the bedside, Patamon perched on the dresser.

They switch off the light and leave the room, carefully closing the door behind them. They leave a night light on and a glass of water on the bedside table. Patamon and Tailmon curl up on the couch together and take a nap.

In the tiny kitchen, under the bright fluorescent light, Takeru begins chopping onions. It is only nine, after all, and they are all hungry. Hikari brings a chair in from the dining room and collapses into it.

"I suppose," she says, her voice muffled by her shirt sleeve, "that you want me to tell you what's going on."

Takeru glances at his wife - she is so young, and so beautiful, and yet so tired. Her hands are covering her face.

The truth is, he doesn't just _want _her to tell him. He _needs _to know - this is his brother after all - but he suddenly understands that if she can't, he will not press her. She can tell him when she is ready. She has gone through enough already.

"I do," he says, slowly, his knife halted, "I really do. But if you can't . . . ."

He trails off and glances at her. She has taken her hands down and is gazing at him with something approximating wonder.

"I would understand," he finishes. "I trust you."

"Oh, _Takeru_," she breathes, and he is pleased to see a soft smile grace her drawn features.

"Thank you," she says quietly, her eyes meeting his, sincere, trustful.

He smiles back. "Of course," he says, and then turns back to the cutting board.

When she takes a long, preparatory breath he realizes that she is going to tell him after all, and he almost collapses in relief. He doesn't, however, turn to look at her as he listens. He senses instinctively that she wants just his ears, not his eyes.

"Did Yamato ever tell you what happened the last night he and Taichi talked?"

Takeru shakes his head. "No, I could never get him to talk about Taichi. Lord knows I've tried, but it's impossible to get something out of him when he's decided not to talk about it."

"I thought as much," Hikari says, sounding regretful. "The thing is, I don't know if Yamato even remembers."

"He was drunk?" Takeru postulates. "He probably doesn't, then. Yamato never could hold his drink."

He smiles ruefully. Not that he ever let anyone know it, though, not proud Yamato.

"What happened?"

"Well," says Hikari, almost gossipy, "this was back when Sora was in New York staying with her father. So it was just the two of them."

Takeru recalled suddenly how oddly close those three had been, once upon a time, despite the fact that Sora and Yamato were dating. Taichi hadn't seemed to feel left out by it back then or anything, just laughed and clapped them both on the back and gone on being friends with them both just like always. It had been as if nothing had changed.

Obviously something had.

"If you remember, Yamato had just turned twenty - " the legal drinking age in Japan - "and so they got a rather, ahem, _minor_ amount of sake and Smirnoff and went to Yamato's apartment."

Takeru rolls his eyes. "This is already spelling disaster."

He finishes with the onions and begins on a large pile of mushrooms.

"Clearly," says Hikari. "Anyway, they both got raging drunk. Totally and completely smashed. You know."

He does. He can picture them both grinning idiotically and tossing pillows at each other or throwing friendly punches or something.

"Getting better and better by the minute," he says.

"So they're in the middle of a pillow fight -"

Hah, thinks Takeru. Those two. So predictable.

" - and Taichi leans over and kisses Yamato."

The statement doesn't immediately process. When it does, he drops his knife in delayed surprise and the blade nicks his pinky finger.

"Oh my _god_," he says, sticking the finger in his mouth to stem the bleeding as he whirls to look at Hikari.

"On the mouth," Hikari says, as if for emphasis.

"My god," he says again. "What did Yamato do?"

He is suddenly fearful, knowing his brother, of what he'd said. It can't possibly have been good.

Shit. He remembers, with sudden clarity, the first night Taichi had arrived on their stoop drunk off his ass. He'd stood outside the door, expression stoic, crisscrossed by moonlight, completely unresponsive to Hikari's fawning until she'd mentioned Yamato's name and his face had just caved in completely. He'd howled and howled with sobs that night. He'd also yelled a lot and thrown a chair. It had been, by far, the worst Takeru'd ever seen him. It had been terrifying.

Had that been that night?

"Kicked him out," Hikari says. "He told him he never wanted to talk to him again, and then he kicked him out."

Takeru closes his eyes, draws his hand over his brow, as if to shut out Taichi's pain. "God," he says.

"He said," Hikari says, and her voice lowers, as if ashamed to even say the words out loud, "he said he hated him."

"No," Takeru whispers. No.

Yamato didn't, of course, hate Taichi. In that moment, Takeru is sure, he was betrayed and hurt, had assumed the worst, had thought that Taichi was somehow _using_ him, that lust had been the only reason Taichi had ever been his friend. It wasn't that Yamato always thought the worst of people. It was just that he had never fully accepted that anyone as truly _good_ as Taichi would ever want to be his friend.

"Why," says Takeru. His voice is jagged and broken. "Why did Taichi do it?"

"He didn't know," Hikari says quietly. "That night, when I asked him, he didn't know."

She takes in a deep breath. "He said - he said he just did it. Didn't think, just - "

_They are on the balcony and it is night and a light from across the street glints on Yamato's golden hair and he is laughing, breathless with elation, his face turned to Taichi's, open and happy, and his breath on Taichi's face smells like alcohol. The warm night wind rustles their hair, and Taichi is laughing too, exuberant, frozen in the moment just before the fall._

_He leans forward and grabs Yamato's shirt, steadying himself, and as they both stop laughing he - _

"Kissed him," Hikari finishes. She looks at Takeru stonily. "He loves him, you know."

It is a puzzle, falling into place, as if by magic. Everything suddenly makes sense, and it is so simple, so right - _of course he does. _

"He didn't realize it then," she continues. "But, Takeru, he _does - _you should see him, he cares so much for Yamato, it absolutely tears him apart - "

Takeru wants to cry. What a situation. It is, somehow, simultaneously all Yamato's fault and nothing to do with him, and though his brother is breaking Taichi's heart, over and over again, Taichi is breaking Yamato's, a little, too.

He hopes, suddenly, that deep down Yamato feels the same way about Taichi. God, wouldn't that make all of this a lot easier?

"Taichi remembers all this?" he asks quietly, referring to the night of the kiss.

Hikari nods.

"And that's why he stopped talking to Yamato and Sora," he concludes.

"Yes," Hikari admits. "I tried to tell him that Yamato hadn't meant it, and anyway didn't remember - he did keep calling Taichi for a while, after all - but Taichi said that he was going to respect Yamato's wishes, and that it was for the best besides."

Takeru shakes his head. "But that must have killed him."

"It almost did," Hikari says. "But I think being around Yamato all the time would have been even worse. Besides, he just wanted Yamato to be happy."

He'd made the same dumb sacrifice Yamato had when he'd broken up with Sora, Takeru realizes. His happiness for that of the one he loved.

_It was for the best besides, _Hikari had said.

But no one had been any happier, in the end.


	10. What's To Discuss, Old Friends?

A/N: Well, it's been far too long since I updated this story. To be honest, it's a very difficult story for me to finish, because I've been feeling pretty jaded with love and romance for the past couple of months, and I just can't figure out a way for things to end happily for anyone in the entire world, including Yamato and Taichi. We are all just so messed up.

But anyway, I am trying, and though the updates may be slow, they are still coming. This is a very short chapter, but I just felt obligated to let any of my remaining readers know that the story is still alive. And I'm not just going to end it with, "And they all lived miserably ever after," though I'll admit I have maybe been a little bit tempted.

Anyway, anyway. Enjoy. More coming.

Yamato still hasn't stopped scowling, Gabumon thinks sadly. They've been back at Yamato's house in Shimane for a few days now, and there's been no improvement. Yamato even scowls in his sleep.

Worse still, he won't talk about it. Gabumon sighs. Yamato has always been difficult, but it seems he's being particularly cantankerous these days. Takeru and Patamon had stopped by yesterday and Yamato had been just plain rude until they'd left. Gabumon had yelled at him a little and he'd even seen a flash of guilt cross Yamato's face at one point. But it hadn't lasted, and Yamato's as cold and closed off as ever today.

Gabumon doesn't understand why Yamato's upset in the first place. It had been pretty obvious that it had to do with Taichi - they'd been glaring at each other the entire time, after all, and both he and Agumon knew that there was something off about their jogress - but what exactly what Yamato thinks Taichi's done Gabumon doesn't know. If it hadn't been for Taichi's breakdown, Gabumon is sure he'd be pretty mad at him right now.

Takeru and Patamon hadn't known much either. They had said it had something to do with Sora, too, but that's not much of a surprise either. After all, Yamato and Sora used to live together.

Gabumon has no clue what to make of human relationships. Yamato and Sora had _seemed_ all right together, but they'd never needed each other in the way that Takeru and Hikari do. Gabumon had always been a little confused by Yamato and Sora, to be honest, because in the Digiworld the two had never been close friends. But he had gotten quite used to Piyomon's company.

Perhaps Taichi and Sora are together now? That would upset Yamato, to be sure, but why would it upset Taichi?

Gabumon sighs and gives up. The best he can do is be here for Yamato when Yamato's ready to talk to him. He knows Yamato appreciates his presence, even if he doesn't show it.

Gabumon's not sure that Shimane's the best atmosphere for Yamato right now, really. The house is nice enough - well, actually, it's stunningly beautiful, and the tree-covered world outside provides quite a retreat. But isolation and retreat are exactly what Yamato doesn't need. When Yamato's left alone, he festers like an open wound.

Before Takeru and Patamon had left, they'd told him that he was a good friend, but Gabumon can't help but wonder. Is he? Or would a really good friend confront Yamato, like Taichi used to, instead of comforting him? Instead of doing his cooking and cleaning up after him like a worried mother hen?

What an uncertain thing life is, Gabumon reflects. And friendship, that's pretty uncertain too.

Later, Gabumon's carefully putting away the dishes he's served a silent Yamato lunch on when a knock comes on the door.

"I'll get it!" Gabumon yells, not because he thinks Yamato will even try to answer it, but rather because he wants Yamato to know he can't just ignore the outside world until it goes away.

Sora, Piyomon, Koushiro and Tentomon are outside. Sora looks nervous, Koushiro looks businesslike, and Piyomon looks glad to see him.

"Hello, everyone!" says Gabumon in his most cheerful voice. "Come on in."

He leads them to the sofa, calling over his shoulder, "I'll get Yamato."

Yamato's lying on the bed in the back bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Gabumon makes sure to close the door behind him.

"It's Sora and Koushiro," he tells his friend.

"I don't want to see them," Yamato says automatically.

"Too bad," says Gabumon. "They came all this way to see you. You can't expect me to tell them to just go home."

"I can do whatever I want," Yamato says in a petulant, childlike voice.

"If you don't come out and talk to them, I'm leaving with them and going back to the Digiworld," says Gabumon matter-of-factly. He doesn't like threatening Yamato, but it's not an idle one. He knows Koushiro is here to set up that computer for Yamato so that he can go to the Digiworld and rejuvenate once a week. No computer, no Gabumon.

"You wouldn't," Yamato says dismissively, but Gabumon detects a note of hesitance in his voice.

"I wouldn't have a choice," Gabumon reminds him. "Now, get up."

This is half his life now, he reflects as Yamato sits up slowly. Ushering Yamato into the shower in the mornings, dragging him out the door to go grocery shopping, pulling him into the kitchen for dinner. It's quite tedious, really.

"Ah, Yamato," says Koushiro when they re-enter the living room. "I've brought one of my extra computers. I'm here to set it up and get you connected to the internet."

Yamato looks extremely worn out, like a toy that has been played with one too many times and then thrown aside. "Oh. Thanks."

"Where do you want it set up?" Koushiro prompts after a minute.

"I don't care," says Yamato, a bit harshly.

Koushiro looks annoyed. "Fine. Do you know where there's a phone jack?"

"Kitchen," grunts Yamato.

Koushiro gathers his stuff and walks out huffily, Tentomon trailing behind, leaving Yamato and Sora in stiff silence.

Eventually Sora breaks it with a question. "What are you so pissed off about anyway?" she asks bluntly.

Yamato can't do anything but splutter indignantly. "What - me - of course I'm pissed off!"

Gabumon is relieved to see that Sora's words seem to have jolted some life into him.

"You have absolutely no right to be angry," Sora says calmly. Gabumon has a feeling she's_ trying_ to provoke him. A look at Piyomon confirms this - she's looking at her partner with that disapproving expression of hers.

Yamato's cold attitude has returned. "I have no right to be angry with the person who stopped talking to me for absolutely no reason and without any attempt at explanation, after being my best friend for _nine years_?" His voice is flat, almost monotone.

"Did you ever think that maybe he _has _a reason?" Sora cuts in, her voice soft but still sharp, like a slightly dulled knife.

Yamato glares at her balefully. "Does he?"

Suddenly, Sora's face shifts. "Yes," she says, without hesitating, but Gabumon knows Yamato won't believe her.

"What is it, then?" he shoots back immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance is confrontational, yet still closed off.

Sora sighs. "I can't tell you that, Yamato. It's not my place."

Yamato nods. "He has no reason," he says conclusively, clinically. He is so detached, Gabumon thinks sadly. He is like an empty shell.

"You don't really think that," says Sora dismissively.

"Don't try to tell me what I think," Yamato says flatly.

"Someone has to!" Sora barks, her frustration flashing suddenly across her face. "Look, I know how hard it is for you to deal with your feelings -"

She breaks off, probably because of the look on Yamato's face. Gabumon has not seen Yamato look so angry in years.

"You dare - " he starts. His voice is dark and viscous with rage. "You actually _presume_ - "

"You know Taichi has a reason," Sora interrupts, her voice slightly louder than Yamato's but firm and steady. "You just can't admit that you're scared to know what it is. You can't admit that you're _scared_ that Taichi never really cared about you, that you're afraid that you were _never good enough _for him - "

"Get out of my house."

Yamato does not yell, he does not shout. Yet there is a finality to the statement, a finality that even Gabumon, who is Yamato's most loyal friend, would be forced to heed if it were directed at him. It is not a veiled threat, nor a command, but somehow a fact. Sora has to leave.

She looks at him, runs a tired hand through her hair, and sighs. Piyomon, next to her, nestles a reassuring pink-feathered wing into Sora's other hand.

"Okay," Sora says finally, resigned. "But just let me say this."

She pauses, as if gathering herself, and gazes momentarily around the room at the sparse and dusty furniture. Her eyes meet Gabumon's for an instant, and she gives him a strained and almost imperceptible smile. Then she looks back at Yamato, her gaze unwavering.

"I know Taichi hurt you," she eventually says softly. "I just want you to realize that you've hurt him too."

Gabumon glances sharply back at Yamato, in time to catch the astonished look that flashes across his face. He does not reply.

"That's all," says Sora. She looks apologetic, now, and the sunlight that slants through the living room windows and flashes off her hair, bright amber and gold, makes her look suddenly matronly and warm. "Please come home to Tokyo, when you're ready. We all miss you."

Yamato does not move, does not even blink. He is still as a statue, immobile in both mind and body.

"Goodbye, Gabumon," says Sora, almost sorrowfully, and then Piyomon detaches herself from Sora's hanging hand and throws herself at Gabumon. Startled, Gabumon wraps his arms around her, carefully, watchful of his own claws.

"You're a good partner," she whispers so that neither human can hear, her beak click-click-clicking next to his ear. "Don't worry, he'll come around."

Gabumon starts, then lets his face relax into a smile. Piyomon knows him so very well - she's guessed exactly what's bothering him, and as always she knows exactly the right thing to say.

"Thanks," he says, "see you in the Digiworld," and then they are both gone in a sudden whirl of pink and blue feathers and yellow hair.

The door clicks shut, and Gabumon is left alone with Yamato, who immediately collapses onto the sofa and recommences his previous practice of staring fiercely at nothing at all.

Gabumon sighs. He is a calm and well-disposed Digimon by nature, which is probably why he and Yamato work so well together in the first place, but sometimes. Sometimes Yamato and his melodrama is a bit much for even the calmest of Digimon.


	11. The Grief That Does Not Speak

The morning light is pale and soft and filters through the trees in gentle patches. Above him the sky is still inky blue but fading fast, the dwindling remainder of night, like watercolors steadily seeping away. A small stream trickles past him, clear and cold as air in winter, rippling lightly over the mottled gray pebbles beneath.

Yamato has always secretly wanted to play guitar in the forest as the sun comes up, but now that he's here, sitting in the dirt with his guitar strap over his neck, he feels fairly ridiculous. It's quiet, but strangely enough he can barely hear himself play. Every chord he picks out dissipates rapidly away into the air around him, as if the sound is fleeing, dancing away to some unknown corner of the world. As a result he doesn't feel closer to nature, as he had originally hoped, but is only reminded inexorably of his own insignificance.

He recommences his playing, anyway, letting the sound disappear, playing whatever chords feel right under his fingers. He had long ago reached the point in his playing where he could let his fingers just go while his mind wandered, leaving some small part of his subconscious to the music.

It strikes him that gestures like this, gestures that seem in his head as if they would convey exactly what he is feeling, always turn out far less dramatically than expected. After his parents had divorced, he had taken his only picture of the four of them, his parents and Takeru and himself, out of its frame and carried it down to the pier, where he intended to set the photograph aflame and let the ashes drift gently down into the ululating waves in a grand symbolic gesture. But the sea, of course, had had other ideas, and the ocean breeze had quietly and efficiently snuffed out each of his matches just as he lit them, so that eventually he had to drop the intact picture over the rail, where, frustratingly enough, the wind had once again intervened, lifting the fluttering photograph above the reach of the water and onto a small dry ledge just out of Yamato's grasp, where a seagull had promptly shat on it.

Life, thinks Yamato, is like that. You decide things are one way or the other, and the universe immediately goes about proving you wrong in whatever way it can.

He thinks suddenly of what Sora had said to him last week - _"Did you ever think that maybe he __**has**__ a reason?" - _and considers that the universe may be trying to prove him wrong on this count, as well.

Indeed, even calm, rational Koushiro had taken Taichi's side.

Yamato had been lying on the couch in the living room and sulking, arms over his chest, when Koushiro finished installing the new computer.

He and Tentomon had come back into the living room and started looking for Sora and Piyomon rather obviously, turning their heads to and fro like an audience watching a tennis match.

"She left," Yamato had said curtly, watching them from the corner of his eye. "We had a fight."

Koushiro raised his eyebrows at this. "Did you," was all he said.

"She seems to think that Taichi was _justified_ in his sudden de-friending of me," Yamato had explained tensely. Normally he wouldn't have bothered to elaborate like that, but he had wanted suddenly for Koushiro to agree with him, for his most logical friend to nod along and say, "Yes, yes, I can see why that would be upsetting for you," or any other manner of mildly affirmative response. But Koushiro had only raised his eyebrows once more, in silent acknowledgment.

"Of course _she_ would say that," Yamato had added bitterly. "Since she and Taichi are _so in love_."

Koushiro's eyebrows had seemed to inch higher, if it were possible. They were already up to his hairline. "I do not know what evidence begat that conclusion," he had said, in the tones of a math teacher correcting a student's errant calculations, "but I would recommend checking your logic again."

"So you think Taichi's right, too," Yamato had said, accusation thick on his tongue, "You think that I have _no reason to be angry_."

Koushiro had looked at him in silence for a moment, considering, analyzing. "No," he had replied finally. "But I do not think your reason is good."

Yamato thinks of this now, and sighs. Perhaps Koushiro is right. What is his reason for being angry with Taichi, again? For stealing away Sora? Well, he had been the one to break up with Sora in the first place, and hadn't Koushiro basically told him that Taichi and Sora weren't in love?

Is it possible that the great sacrifice he made, his happiness for the happiness of his two best friends, had been in vain?

But no, he tells himself, no. He hadn't been happy with Sora, not for a long time. Breaking up with her hadn't been a sacrifice so much as an opportunity for the two of them to seek happiness in other places. If Yamato is truly honest with himself, the breakup had been as much about him as about her.

It was true, though, that he had been partly angry with Taichi because he'd thought that Sora's happiness had lain with him, and he'd been bitter and a little possessive. Sora had been _his_, so why couldn't she be happy with _him_? What was wrong with _him_?

No matter that he had been just as unhappy with her. The jealousy had still been there, had maybe been the more potent for its irrationality.

But wait, Yamato thinks suddenly. Hadn't it gone both ways? He had been jealous of _Sora_, too, strangely. Taichi had been his jogress partner, his best friend for years, the one person in his life he had felt able to depend on. His relentless cheeriness persisted in the face of even the worst of Yamato's bad days. He had felt closer to no one except Gabumon, not even Takeru, for though he loved his brother very much, he had never been able to _confide_ in him, and though he had rarely actually said anything to Taichi, either, Taichi had always just been able to _tell_. Taichi understood Yamato, and Yamato wanted that all to himself, he didn't want to think that Taichi could possibly share this closeness with _anyone else_, not even Sora.

So he had been mad at Taichi for ... for what? Abandoning him?

Yes, he decides, _yes_, and in more than one way! Yamato can think of no reason, _none, _that Taichi might have that could justify the way he has treated Yamato, who is supposed to be his _best friend_, after all. Yamato has seen more of his _mother_ than he has of Taichi, lately.

_God_, Yamato thinks, emphatically. His anger is bubbling up faster and stronger, now, and he lets himself stew in it. His callused fingers pick out harsher chords on his guitar. Taichi has _no right_ to hurt him like this.

He is mad at Taichi for what happened in the Digiworld, too. He is mad at Taichi for _crying_. What in the world does Taichi have to _cry_ over, for God's sake? He's the one - he's the one, after all, who had _chosen_ to _ditch_ Yamato like this! He's the one who actually has the control in the situation!

Yamato's anger grows significantly at this thought. He hits the next chord so violently that one of his guitar strings actually breaks off with a twang. Cursing, he reaches into the guitar case for a spare.

He calms down almost immediately after he stops playing, and his mind changes tracks to head in an entirely different direction.

What can he _do _about it?

...

Well.

There are only two possible answers to that question.

He can keep ignoring everything entirely, as he had done for years.

Or he can confront Taichi.

Hikari peers at the viewscreen of the digital camera distractedly. On the screen, the ocean waves crash periodically on the shore, and a tiny dot of a seagull flutters across the left corner.

She sighs as she zooms in as far as the camera will allow. Since it's one of her school's nicer pieces of photography equipment, this is quite far, and the updated view on the screen is all foam and churning black water. Hikari rather likes the effect, and snaps a couple of shots in rapid succession.

Lately her photographs have been getting more and more abstract, she reflects, turning the dial atop the camera to look over the new pictures. One picture she'd taken a couple of days ago, a close-up of the rust gathering on an uneven metal surface, had been particularly breathtaking.

She supposes it stands to reason, really, considering the current state of her home life. Taichi's unhappiness is so huge that it has begun to engulf the entire household, so that everyone wanders around sort of gloomily, forgetting what they were doing and staring blankly at nothing. Tailmon spends even more of the day sleeping than usual. Even Patamon's wings droop with the heaviness of sorrow, and the halls of their tiny apartment, usually full of conversation and laughter, are still and quiet.

When he isn't in class, Takeru has been locked up in his office for most of the past week, typing away on his laptop. "I just can't help it," he had confessed to Hikari last night, when he'd finally come to bed. "I _have _to write, I can't stop."

"That's good," Hikari had mumbled, half-asleep. "But why _now_?"

"There's just so much sadness around here," he'd replied, his eyes far away. "_Someone_ has to do something about it."

Indeed, Taichi himself doesn't seem to be doing much. He spends most of his time in the spare bedroom, oozing unhappiness. He lies sprawled on the bed, as limp as if all his bones have been liquefied, and accepts the food that Agumon brings him from the kitchen. Takeru had mused absently that he and Yamato were doing much the same thing, these days.

To Hikari's surprise though, Taichi has been _reading_, an endeavor which is as unlike him as eating brussels sprouts. He had picked up one of Takeru's books for school off the floor one day, and Hikari supposes something about it spoke to him or something. She'd glanced at the title - _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_ - and shrugged. Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief, it seems.

"Missus Takaishi!" a voice calls suddenly.

Hikari looks up from the camera, which she's been staring at this whole time, to see her photography professor atop a little hill of sand some ways off, gesturing at her impatiently.

"Come on!" he calls. "The bus is heading back to campus now."

Hikari turns the camera off and lets it drop back to its resting place around her neck, and heads towards the professor, moving quickly. She always tries to head home from class as soon as possible, so as not to leave Taichi alone for too long.

She takes a few more pictures from the bus with a thirty-second shutter and they come out beautifully, all blurred blue and grey and yellow with motion. Her professor leans over to look and smiles, pleased.

"Beautiful as always, Takaishi," he comments. "Like a painting."

Hikari smiles, too, studying the tiny screen. They are great pictures, so full of emotion, almost as if it's a snapshot of what her brother's feeling rather than what's out the window. She resolves to show them to Taichi later.

She arrives at her apartment building at twilight. All around her long shadows grasp at the ground. She can pick out their apartment window from here, and is surprised to see that all the lights are on. The window blazes bright yellow, as if in a friendly gesture to the night.

Puzzled, Hikari enters the elevator and presses the button for their floor. Usually the window is dark, or nearly so, lighted only by the dim light from the kitchen. Who would have turned the lights on? Takeru's still in class, and the Digimon are in the Digiworld. That leaves just Taichi, and he hasn't left his room in days, except for the bathroom. So what in the _world_ is going on?

She arrives at the front door and stops. Music is blaring from inside the apartment, upbeat rock music of some sort. The beat is familiar, and she wonderingly tries to place it.

Her breath catches as she realizes. _Yamato's _music, she says to herself, shocked. She fumbles for her key, and hopes her brother is okay.

Yamato finishes fiddling with the replacement string and then starts playing again, choosing more mild chords, strumming more gently. The sun is stronger now, and Yamato absorbs its heat gladly, letting it warm his tired body in its steady glow.

If he really thinks about it, the truth is that he has already made his decision. He made his decision when he broke up with Sora.

Because breaking up with Sora had been, at its core, a decision to stop pretending that everything was okay when it really wasn't, when it wasn't even close to being okay. And ignoring the way Taichi's been treating him is just an extension of that same stupid game of pretend. He had pretended as hard as he could that Taichi's opinion hadn't mattered to him at all, when of course it mattered more than almost anything. He had lied to himself in the hopes that, someday, if he tried hard enough, the lie would become truth, and he wouldn't _need_ Taichi anymore.

But he _does_ need Taichi. Yamato lets himself think that, finally, and is suddenly filled with conflicting emotions of sadness and relief. He needs Taichi to cheer him up, challenge him, yell at him, tease him - in short, to just _be there_. To be Yamato's friend, as he had once been.

He traces his own life back, to the day where Taichi had suddenly stopped talking to him, and remembers his own panic when his best friend wouldn't return his phone calls, wouldn't answer his front door.

He had been _miserable_. He hadn't allowed himself to think it, but he had been. He had missed Taichi more than he would ever have admitted.

So what does that mean to him now? Yamato wonders, almost idly, as he shifts to a minor key. The music he plays now is wistful, almost longing. What is he going to say to Taichi?

The answer comes to him surprisingly easily, and he realizes it's been there all along, burning strong and pure at the back of his mind.

He has to ask Taichi _why_.

Hikari finally manages to get the door open and rushes inside worriedly. The front hallway is neat and bright, the light is on overhead, the shoes by the door are lined up in a long straight row. The mess of papers and schoolbooks that normally resides on the floors is nowhere to be seen.

In the living room, Taichi is sitting on the couch slurping a bunch of noodles out of a take-out box and singing along with the music horribly. It sounds like a stray cat yowling. In contrast Yamato's voice through the speakers is deep and smooth, like water running.

Taichi turns to give Hikari his goofiest grin and sweeps his hand to indicate the take-out bag on the table.

"Hey," he says nonchalantly, "I got some for you too."

Hikari just stands and_ gapes_ at him. This morning when she'd left for school she'd stopped by his room to say good morning and he'd just stared at her vacantly. Now, less than twelve hours later, he's sitting here like everything is normal, like nothing ever happened.

"Wha - " says Hikari. _"What_?"

Taichi laughs, a real laugh.

"Did you think I was going to sit around and sulk _forever_ or something?"he says. "I'm not _Yamato_, you know."

"But," Hikari starts haltingly. "But nothing's different! How can you be so cheerful when - "

She breaks off, biting her lip. But Taichi seems to get her point, and shrugs elaborately.

"Look," he says, "sometimes you have to accept things you don't want to, you know? I happen to be in love with someone who hates me - "

"He doesn't _hate_ - " Hikari interrupts.

"Or in any case is extremely angry with me," Taichi continues relentlessly. "Okay. So what? I'm not the only person who's ever loved someone who doesn't love them back."

Hikari stares at him, awed. "But - "

"It doesn't matter," Taichi says. He's smiling again, suddenly, a kind of wistful, content little smile. "It really doesn't. What matters is that I love him."

He pauses. Yamato's music fills the room. The song playing now is a slow one, a simple guitar line and some drums, Yamato's voice soft and warm.

"When it comes down to it," Taichi continues after a minute, tilting his head thoughtfully, "love is a _wonderful_ feeling."


	12. Anger Soon As Fed

Taichi sits quite contentedly on his own couch, in his own apartment, chewing on a pen cap in concentration. He and Agumon had left Hikari's apartment early this morning, to a cacophony of goodbyes and an excess of hugging. Now he's home, and glad to be there, eating take-out as always and going through the mail that had piled up in his little mailbox in the front lobby.

Agumon had departed to the Digiworld about an hour ago, where he'd agreed to meet with a conference of important Digimon concerning the formation of some sort of Digi-government.

"Well, as Gabumon puts it, it was bound to happen eventually," he had explained. "Enough evil tyrants try to oppress a place, and eventually the people will try to organize some sort of resistance. I think they got the idea from your world."

Taichi had offered to go, but Agumon had refused.

"It's Digimon-only," he said, looking regretful, "or else I'd have made you come myself. But when I get back I'll tell you everything, and you can tell me what you think."

The letter Taichi is reading had been in a large white professional-looking envelope and had been addressed to 'Taichi Yagami, Leader of the Original DigiDestined." As far as he can make out, it's from some organization of politicians and scientists, asking him to come talk to them about the Digiworld.

He shrugs and puts it back on the table. There's a phone number on the top of the letter. He'll call it in the morning and see what it's all about.

He picks up his carton of rice and wonders how Yamato is doing in Shimane. Probably still sitting around feeling sorry for himself, he surmises. Ah, well, that's Yamato for you.

Taichi _misses _him. He sometimes thinks that Yamato is actually in the room, he thinks about him so constantly. He will be thinking about something else entirely, and the image of Yamato's quiet smile, sliding suddenly across his face, will rise unbidden in Taichi's mind, and Taichi will find that he is smiling, too, just at the thought. He hears in his head conversations they've had, and makes up ones that they might be having if Yamato were here. He remembers wistfully the battles, the camaraderie, the joy of working together to defeat an enemy. He thinks about how Yamato's music has changed over years, about the sound of the lonely harmonica drifting through their camp, the lilt of his guitar, the increasing sophistication of his song lyrics, the way Yamato can twist his voice just _so_, so that Taichi's heart twists too.

He thinks about the bad moments, too, all the time. He remembers the night of the kiss, the hatred that had been in Yamato's face and his words, and is simultaneously saddened for himself and for Yamato, who had been so hurt, so betrayed. He thinks of the jogress. He thinks of that time, back in the beginning, in the Digiworld, where Yamato had turned to the dark. He remembers clearly once, when Yamato'd come over after visiting his mom, he'd thrown a shoe at the wall and just _screamed_. He thinks of Yamato's cool facade, his self-loathing, his insecureness. All his neuroses.

He'd heard a song once, where the singer had claimed that, in a sea of eyes, he could pick out his lover's. Taichi could do that, easy, and more. He could pick out Yamato's guitar-playing, his habits, probably even his _thoughts_. This is what love is, he thinks, to know someone entirely, to know their flaws and strengths, and just _care_ so much, even when that person is being stupid or annoying or cruel. It's an enormous feeling, like being filled up as full as you can get, and then a little bit fuller.

But he hates that he has to love Yamato from afar, that they can't even be _friends_ anymore.

He sighs and puts down the now-empty carton. This is the way it is, he tells himself sternly. Just_ deal _with it.

A few minutes later, as he is making a mess of his dinner, there is a sudden thundering at the door. Someone is knocking on it violently, as if they want to break it into a million pieces.

"Huh," says Taichi, and gets up to open it. He looks through the peephole, and his stomach drops when he sees the familiar head of golden hair.

Oh god.

He takes a steadying breath and then opens the door. On the other side Yamato is glaring at him vehemently.

Yamato looks _awful_. His hair is all matted and knotty and sticking up in the back and his eyes are rimmed dark with lack of sleep. Whatever he's wearing is slumped and wrinkled and fraying, and it's black so the pieces of lint and hair collected on it gleam in the waning sunlight. He looks angry and drained and sad. Taichi wants to gather Yamato in his arms, let his head rest on his shoulder, run his hands through his unruly hair.

"Yamato," Taichi breathes, unable to stop himself.

"_Yagami_," Yamato hisses back.

Taichi snaps back to himself and opens the door wide. "Please come in," he says politely. "Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?"

"_No_," Yamato snarls, pushing himself through the doorway. He doesn't take his shoes off, nor does he move towards the sofa. He just stands there, right inside the door, and glowers. It is all Taichi can do to stop himself from crossing the distance between them and running his hands over Yamato's face. Instead he closes the door carefully after Yamato and stands facing him, putting his hands in his pockets and waiting for whatever Yamato is here to say.

It is slow in coming. Yamato continues glaring, as if keeping at it long enough will turn Taichi to stone.

After a while, Taichi realizes that Yamato isn't going to start the conversation.

He clears his throat, a little anxiously. "Well?" he says.

Yamato's scowl, if possible, deepens. "I just have one question for you," he says, brisk and cross.

"Okay," Taichi replies immediately, "anything."

He means it, too, whatever Yamato wants to know he will surrender the information. Whatever Yamato wants, he will give.

"_Why_," says Yamato with such force that Taichi actually takes a step back. Yamato pauses, and Taichi can see then that behind his anger Yamato is so upset that he is on the verge of tears. "Why did you stop talking to me?"

Taichi wants to cry, too, at that. He hates how much he has hurt Yamato. He betrayed Yamato's trust that night, with that kiss, and then betrayed it all over again the next day when he stopped talking to him. But it couldn't be avoided, even if he'd reminded Yamato what had happened that night, it wouldn't have helped, it would have still been a betrayal, Yamato would have hated him even more for it. Taichi thought that letting Yamato forget would be easier for them both, that Yamato would just think that they were drifting apart or something. That he wouldn't have to hate Taichi.

Clearly he had been wrong.

"You were my _best friend_," Yamato continues, obviously on a roll now, "I thought you were my best friend! I needed you, and you just _left_. I thought it was because of Sora, but apparently it wasn't, so _why_ - why - "

He breaks off and lowers his gaze to the floor. He uncrosses his arms and puts a hand on his forehead, broodingly. He lowers it and crosses his arms again.

There is silence for a few moments, Taichi staring at Yamato, Yamato relentlessly studying the carpet.

"I'm sorry," Taichi manages to get out, finally, barely managing to hold back his tears.

Yamato looks up, looking astonished. "You're _sorry_?" he repeats, cruelly mocking. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"

He makes a noise like disgust somewhere in the back of his throat and then looks away again determinedly.

"No," says Taichi, cross all of a sudden, "if you'd let me _finish_ - "

"I didn't interrupt you!" Yamato interrupts.

"I was _gathering my thoughts_," Taichi says, narrowing his eyes. "This isn't an easy thing to say."

"Say it," says Yamato shortly.

Yamato is still not looking at him. He's looking at the wall, or at least facing it, his eyes far away.

Taichi won't stand for it.

"Look at me, then!" he almost shouts.

Yamato does, and Taichi immediately wishes he hadn't asked him to. Having those intense blue eyes focused on him, like an interrogation lamp, does nothing to enhance his concentration.

He takes another deep, steadying breath, and meets Yamato's gaze as evenly as he can.

"You asked me to," he says simply.

"_What_?" says Yamato. "I did _not_ - "

"Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen," Taichi retorts. He can't help but say it a little bitterly.

Yamato's brow wrinkles and his eyes narrow. "Oh yeah?" he says. "_When_?"

"August 6th, 20--," Taichi replies promptly. "Two and a half years ago."

Yamato looks surprised by this. Taichi watches his expression shift, and supposes he vaguely remembers the events of that night. At least the events _leading up _to that night.

"I didn't," he says, but his voice is soft and and unsure now.

"You _did_," says Taichi, heavily.

Yamato is still looking directly at Taichi, so hard it almost hurts, as if trying to gauge the truth of his words. They stand like this for a few moments, just looking at each other. Yamato's arms are still crossed over his chest, protectively. He looks sad and hurt still, but also thoughtful.

Taichi realizes suddenly how hard he's been breathing. He feels as if he's been out running for the past ten minutes.

"Oh," says Yamato eventually. "Well. I was drunk, wasn't I? I didn't mean it. You can talk to me again."

Taichi looks at Yamato, hard, and is tempted. He could pretend that it was the same as before, that he'd never kissed Yamato, that'd he'd never realized how much he loves him, that they are still just _friends_.

"Please," Yamato adds, quietly. He is giving Taichi a look he recognizes, a look that says, _You moron. Is that all? _Taichi kind of wants to kiss him for it.

But he knows what he has to do.

"I _can't_," he answers, just as quietly.

Yamato looks immensely frustrated. "Taichi," he says. "Why _not_? You're my best friend, I _miss _you! If that's all it was - "

"It's not," Taichi interrupts. He wants to cry again. If his emotions jump around much more today he will just die of emotional exhaustion. "Don't you want to know _why_ you said that?"

Yamato's face freezes.

"Don't you want to know why you said you never wanted to see me again?" Taichi continues. He runs a hand through his own hair, even though that usually only makes it messier.

"I said that?" Yamato asks, so quietly it's almost imperceptible. He looks a bit shocked at himself, a bit scared.

Taichi nods. "You said," he adds, quite unable to stop himself even though he doesn't want Yamato to hear this, "you said you _hated _me."

He almost does cry then. Somehow he stops himself, but he's sure his face is crumpling up anyway. He closes his eyes and puts his hand over his face, just in case.

There's a brief silence. Then -

"Oh, god," says Yamato's voice in consternation, "I'm the worst friend ever. I don't deserve the crest! I'm sure I didn't _mean_ it, just forget I said it - "

Taichi opens his eyes and sees, through his fingers, that Yamato is reaching out for him. He jerks away just in time.

"Stop," he says flatly.

Yamato does. His arm drops to his side. He looks confused.

"Tai," he starts.

He has to get it over with, Taichi realizes. He has to _say _it. He has to say it now.

He has to make Yamato understand.

"Because I kissed you," he says loudly. "There! Now do you get it?"

Yamato's face goes from confused to shocked, then straight back to confused. And then, to Taichi's surprise, he starts to laugh.

"Is that _all_?" he manages to get out, and then laughs some more. He is laughing hard enough that he is bent over with the effort.

"Wh- what's funny?" Taichi asks, completely bewildered.

Yamato keeps laughing. Taichi starts to feel a little hurt. _He_ doesn't see that anything is funny at _all_.

"_God_," Yamato chokes out, "so much drama over a stupid drunken _mistake_! You should have just _told_ me, we would have laughed it off, we would have been _fine_ - "

Taichi scowls. "It wasn't a mistake," he says, emphatically.

That shuts Yamato up. He straightens himself and stares at Taichi, his face suddenly a carefully arranged blank.

"I mean," Taichi amends. "I didn't _mean_ to do it at the time, I didn't think about it or anything, but - "

Yamato is still staring, completely impassive. Taichi wonders what he is thinking. He might as well be made of stone for all the emotion he's showing.

"But," he continues. "I _meant_ it. I didn't know I meant it, but - "

He pauses and just looks at Yamato. He cannot _stand_ this. Yamato is _still_ staring, face blank as you please. Taichi just wants him to _react_, to do something, _anything_! He feels, somewhat irrationally, like he is the only one who gives a shit about all of this.

"Oh, hell with it," he says, and crosses the distance between them. He takes that vacant face gently in his hands, and kisses Yamato for the second time.

It's nice, it's _wonderful, _but it won't last. Yamato tenses up the second Taichi touches him, and his lips against Taichi's are small and tight with anger. Any minute now he will push Taichi away and run out of the apartment.

So Taichi draws back and looks Yamato in the eyes.

Yamato looks shocked and angry, just as he had the last time. Taichi's stomach twists. _Well_, he tells himself, _at least he knows now. And he won't forget this time_. But, _God_, he still has to _say _it.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I love you," he says. Then he touches his own lips to Yamato's one last time, just barely brushing them, and then lets go, steps back.

That's it, then. It's _over_.

Yamato stares at him for one eternity-long second and then turns and walks out the door.


	13. Throw Away My Misery

Author's note: Hello all! Here is a brief update, just to let you know the story is not dead ... just a very long time in coming! I don't want to end this cheaply by portraying the characters in a way that I myself don't find believable, and so it is taking me a very long time to work out just how everything needs to procede. Getting closer ... enjoy!

* * *

The sun is setting over distant Tokyo; behind the brisk outline of buildings the sky flares bright orange and pink. The train bullets along, shuddering with speed, and through his dim reflection in the dusty window Yamato absently watches the yellow-tinted landscape fly by.

This morning he'd awoken to the sound of a harsh wind howling through the trees outside his house. Above its high shriek he could hear leaves fluttering and branches crashing. The resulting cacophony had struck him as terrifyingly beautiful, a musical masterpiece of sorts, a symphony of chaos, and he had laid in bed listening intently to it until Gabumon came in with his breakfast.

Later, he had plugged his guitar into an amp and a synthesizer and attempted to recreate the dark energy he'd felt. He'd built up a wonderful dissonance of chords by layering recordings over each other in a heavy and powerful swell of emotions when Gabumon came in with his paws over his ears to ask what the terrible din was about.

"No one appreciates my genius," Yamato had retorted, but he'd put the guitar down and gone into the kitchen to help Gabumon with lunch.

Things are coming together, he thinks, they really are. He spends his days in a state of quiet introspection rather than sullen despondency, and he feels as if he is getting back to his roots, to the things that really matter - his music, mainly, but more than that, simpler things like cooking and joking around with Gabumon and organizing his CDs alphabetically and making his bed in the morning. He writes his father emails every morning, and he talks on the phone with Takeru at least once a week.

Yamato smiles at the thought of his brother, who is in the process of publishing his first book. On the phone, Takeru's voice is a mix of anxiety and excitement as he talks too rapidly for Yamato to follow, detailing the latest changes his editor is pushing and the constant battle over choosing a cover.

"It's _based_ on Hikari's photo," Takeru says almost every time Yamato talks to him. "I just don't _understand _why they want to put some underdressed hipster girl on the front instead. I swear my publicists don't know the first thing about literature!"

Yamato always laughs briefly at this. "Just don't sell out, Takeru. That's what I did with the Wolves' first album and it set me back _years_."

"I'm not _selling out_," Takeru replies grumpily. "It's just the _cover_."

The Shimane house is looking better every day, thanks in part to Gabumon. The summer months are always beautiful in Shimane, and Yamato and Gabumon have taken up some mild gardening. In the front, they have planted ginkaku-ji azaleas and white irises next to a tiny pond. One sunny spring afternoon, after hours of planting iris bulbs and with dirt under his fingernails and smeared down his arms, Yamato had been sitting next to the pond with Gabumon, and had been struck with an idea.

"Be right back," he had told Gabumon, jumping up. He had raced inside and grabbed the tiny glass bowl that Kagututi, his beta fish, lived in. Then he'd gone back outside, more slowly now, clutching the bowl between both hands and gazing thoughtfully at the morose-looking fish.

"You're not going to let him go, are you, Yamato?" Gabumon had asked warily as he'd seen Yamato's reapproach. "I don't think that fish will survive in this pond."

"Maybe not," Yamato had replied, undaunted, "but I at least have to let him _try_."

And lo and behold, the fish had survived. To this day, Kagututi darted jauntily to and fro in the pond, looking happier and more satisfied than he ever had in his bowl. Even his fishy scowl seemed to have lightened.

"It's because he's _free_," Yamato had told Gabumon matter-of-factly. "Free to express his _fishness_ in the type of environment truly befitting a fish."

"Sometimes, my friend," Gabumon had answered, his voice grave, "I truly fear for your sanity."

In the backyard, they had planted a vegetable garden, including traditional vegetables such as cucumber, radish, eggplant and cabbage, as well as more Western vegetables such as tomatoes, garlic, onions and Yamato's favorite, a strange type of lettuce known as dinosaur kale. They had even planted a cherry tree and an apple tree.

With such a bountiful garden returning such strange combinations of food, Yamato had been forced back into the kitchen, where he had to find ways to put, for example, sweet potato, bamboo shoots and spinach into the same entree. Culinary creativity, he had thusly decided, was born out of whatever was lying about in the kitchen at any given time.

_If your next album doesn't sell_, Yamato's father had written in one of his emails after hearing about this, _you should start a restaurant for the adventurous gastronomer. Call it _SomeFood I Had Lying Around.

In fact, Yamato's next album, his first solo album, is almost completely finished. He had converted half of the bathhouse out back into a recording studio, a brilliant move, he thought, considering the unusually sonorous acoustics of most bathing rooms. He'd sent some of the recordings to his producer in Tokyo, who had immediately started marketing the album and set a release date for later this summer.

"Brilliant," he had told Yamato forcefully, "just brilliant. Ponderous, wandering, pontificous - I love it. It'll sell like hotcakes."

Of course, Yamato isn't happy with it quite yet himself. There are some great tracks, sure, but it's missing something a little more high energy - like the stuff he recorded this morning. And the whole album doesn''t flow from one track to the next yet, either. Worse, however, is the prospect of facing his disappointed fans who, expecting another Teenage Wolves album, will probably be _shocked_ at the change in tone on this one.

Oh well, he thinks. Who wants fans who can't understand a little bit of a different style _anyway_.

There is only one thing in Yamato's life that he hasn't quite made sense of yet.

_Taichi_.

Yamato hasn't spoken to him since, well, since _the event_ , and has managed to avoid thinking about it almost entirely. Every time Taichi's face rises unbidden to his mind, he studiously begins thinking about something else - _rutabagas, rutabagas, I wonder how rutabagas would taste with ginger and cardamom?_ - until the face fades.

Yamato realizes that this is not healthy. This is why he's on a train to Tokyo, to visit Takeru and Hikari and talk to them about it, and, just maybe, go see Taichi afterwards.

Well, and to check out his father's fancy new office on the executive floor of the TV Tokyo building, and to investigate the possibility of having Koushiro set up a transport link between Shimane and Tokyo by passing through the Digiworld. And to pick up some yakitori at his favorite stand downtown. But that's all beside the point. Which is -

_Taichi, _Yamato reminds himself, and sighs moodily. It's obvious enough to Yamato that he misses his best friend something desperate. That was made clear two months ago, when he had felt it so necessary to barge into Taichi's apartment demanding explanations. Now he's got the explanation, all right, but he doesn't know what to do with it. His mind can't seem to find the edges of the problem in order to fully grasp it, as if an endless undulating blanket of blankness has crept steadily over his brain. He feels fuzzy and confused, lost in a labyrinth of half-formed questions and far-away feelings that flit away nervously whenever he tries to take a closer look.

Outside the window, the train has reached the edges of the Shinagawa district. Glittering high-rises whip past, splinters of the sea dancing into view for split seconds between buildings. The train begins to slow, and Yamato, seeing the familiar urban landscape and bustling crowds of people, allows himself a distant half-smile.

Sleeping somewhere in this city, he thinks, in the echoes of his past or the whispers of his future, is the answer to his problem with Taichi. And he will not leave again until he finds it.


End file.
